


And from the ashes of their world, we’ll build a better one

by AryYuna



Category: X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Brother-Sister Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt Charles, Hurt Pietro, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Moments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 03:34:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9860585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AryYuna/pseuds/AryYuna
Summary: “She’d never really allowed herself to think about coming back to Westchester, lest she’d end up abandoning everything in exchange for the safety of that place. The mission was too important, more than her comfort, more than everything. Safety was for the others, for the dreamers like Charles, for the kids she rescued, but someone had to live in the real world so that others could hide – her brother, Erik, Hank.”Apocalypse has destroyed everything, but they can repair it. Together.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been reading – and loving – X-Men comics since I was 12 or 13, but never thought about writing fics; I guess it was about time, seeing as I’ve known these characters since I was in kindergarten and even met X-Chris in 2006 (and probably made a fool of myself in front of him, since my English was rather embarrassing at the time).  
> I must confess I’m not a big fan of the first movie trilogy, but you know what they say, wisdom comes with age: I was too young to fully appreciate a movie so different from my favourite comic, but now I can watch McAvoy’s Zach-Braff-like hairstyle and still enjoy his portrayal of Charles and the fact that they made Raven his little sister out of nowhere – hell, I can even LOVE his hair! And while I don’t ship Cherik I find their bromance beautiful and also very close to what it is supposed to be.
> 
> This story is movieverse and set during XMA, and I tried to be as faithful to canon as possible, taking something from the comics wherever I could. The fic, though, was completed before the digital edition with all the deleted scenes came out, so I hope you’ll forgive my version of some events that only happened off-screen in the movie.  
> About the characters’ ages I ask that you suspend your disbelief. Whoever wrote the end credits in XMFC clearly failed Maths in school spectacularly, and the time gaps between the movies are even crazier, so I decided to create my own timeline. Hope it works for you. If you’re interested in my rambling musings, you can find them in the end notes to the first chapter.
> 
> Since English is not my first language, I hope you’ll forgive any mistakes (you’re welcome to point them out to me, I’ll see to fix them as soon as possible!) and my weird mixture of British and American English. I hope you’ll still be able to enjoy my fic :)  
> Crossposted on FFN and my LJ (AryYuna89) as well.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Marvel and Fox blablabla you know how it goes.
> 
> To Enrica, my wonderful X-friend, the main reason this fic exists in the first place. She’s such a special person I keep wondering what I ever did to deserve her in my life.  
> Thank you, honey, for your patience during my freak-outs, for sharing the enthusiasm for the movie with me, for dragging me in the shipping pit with you and for beta-ing this story. I love you so much *hearts*  
> And everybody should love you as well! So I’m gonna leave here the link to your wonderful fanfiction page, so that people can come and ADORE you like you deserve: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnryS/pseuds/EnryS

She could hear laughter in the distance; the meticulously trimmed bushes and rich trees hid its source from her view, but she could just picture it in her head: the vast lawn, books and bags scattered on the ground, balls being thrown, children running, playing, chatting and studying without a care in the world beyond homework and first kisses.

She snorted. The iron gates didn’t just hide the mutants from the rest of society, they also kept society away from them; sheltered from the horrors of real life, they could just pretend the world beyond the school was kind and the future was bright. Happy.

Mystique knew it was a lie, just like the polite smiles and horny looks her disguise earned from humans – they all would turn suspicious, at best, if she wore her true form. And she was actually lucky, because she _could_ hide, if she chose to.

Her gaze flickered to the mutant walking alongside her towards the mansion.

Kurt Wagner had never known anonymity. His blue skin couldn’t be concealed, his yellow eyes couldn’t pretend to be blue; wherever he went, people stared. And the stares were often more than just impolite.

Washington hadn’t changed things as much as many mutants wanted to believe: the world had learnt about them and had called Mystique a hero for saving a human president, but nobody had ever forgotten that he’d been in danger in the first place because of another mutant, one who’d already killed a president. One who was still free out there, his whereabouts unknown – until now.

Crossing the front door, it was like time had stopped: the elegant dark wood and cream colored marble, the fine carpets, the heavy chandeliers, everything looked just the same. An elevator had been installed on her left, a few different decorative objects adorned the furniture, but if she closed her eyes she could just smell her childhood.

She’d never really allowed herself to think about coming back to Westchester, lest she’d end up abandoning everything in exchange for the safety of that place. The mission was too important, more than her comfort, more than everything. Safety was for the others, for the dreamers like Charles, for the kids she rescued, but someone had to live in the real world so that others could hide – her brother, Erik, Hank.

Still. Being back was… overwhelming.

While not perfect, the years she’d spent in that house – so big, it had looked like a castle inhabited by kings to the six-year-old that had sneaked into the kitchen searching for food – held some of her brightest memories: in that house she’d never been hungry or cold, and for the first time in her life she’d felt safe; loved, even. Charles had protected her – more than she wanted, more than she could stand – and given her the chance to survive, to grow up and become what she wanted. She owed him everything. And still, she was only back to ask for more. But as a not-blue Hank – _are you still ashamed of yourself after all this time?_ – joined her in the hall and Kurt was finally welcomed to Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, she couldn’t bring herself to regret her decision.

 

Hank had taken her around the school, proudly showing their accomplishments. While at first glance not much had changed, the tour told her a different story: some of the ground floor rooms had been turned into classrooms, while on the floor above there were dormitories and entertainment areas. More bathrooms had been installed, the kitchen had been refurnished and equipped to feed more people, the vast dining room on the other side of the corridor now had more tables and chairs, serving as the school cafeteria; outside, near the lake there were a basketball court and some targets for archery. The underground bunker wanted by Sharon Xavier’s second husband, where Alex had first trained, now included a bigger jet and a newly improved Cerebro, used to find more students; next to it, there was a reinforced room where the mutants with more destructive powers could learn to control themselves in a safe environment.

Her friend had reassured her that her old bedroom hadn’t been touched, though, and she could sleep there if she chose to stay for the night. It both warmed her inside and disturbed her that they would keep the room empty as if she were just on a short trip and would soon be back home. Hank didn’t look surprised when she firmly – _coldly_ – stated she would leave after speaking to her brother – a little disappointed, maybe, but swiftly covered it up informing her that Charles and Alex would be back soon.

The actual meeting was harder than she thought, though: meeting Hank again had been strange, but pleasant; seeing Charles cut her breath and brought tears to her eyes. Moira’s confusion at her greeting was a godsend, allowing her to focus on something other than her brother in a wheelchair. It wasn’t like she didn’t know: while he’d been walking in Paris, she’d watched him on TV on multiple occasions since then – with the new popularity mutants had gained after Washington, Professor Xavier had become the go-to guy for anything mutant-related. But seeing him in front of her made everything more real, somehow. It made her betrayal – he mentioned it so casually, as if she’d just left Cuba to go grocery shopping, as if he hadn’t been laying bloody on the sand, and _shit, Moira really was lucky_ – so much worse.

He wasn’t angry, though; just hurt, especially when she remarked that it wasn’t her home – she didn’t want to have a home, she didn’t want to feel welcome. She needed to keep travelling, rescuing mutants, preparing them for the war. The school was good, but it was too saturated in Charles’ naivety to really be of help.

Mystique knew mutants didn’t need a place to hide; she knew they needed more than a few passionate words exchanged in an afternoon talk show. The school was a good start, but what difference would it make when the sentinels would be produced again? Trask had just been the first, more would come: they were too different, and men would always fear what was different.

_You still sound just like him, you sound just like Erik._

But Erik had been hiding since Washington, while Mystique had been struggling to recreate the Brotherhood and give mutants a cause and the means to fight for it.

And still, her loyalty to Erik hadn’t vanished. He’d been the first to treat her as an adult, the first who hadn’t tried either to harm or protect her. He’d trusted her to be her own person, allowed her to grow up. He had played as big a role in forging her as Charles: while her brother had given her a childhood, Erik had given her wings to fly. And now she did fly, on her own. And she was proud of herself. _Mutant and proud_ for real, finally.

 

Taking the elevator to the basement together was like going back twenty years. Sure, they were older, wrinkles and white hair had started to show on their features, but she felt the same easy camaraderie as when they’d trained together the first time. _Twenty-one years ago_.

And still, so much had changed: Sean was dead, Erik was missing, Moira had forgotten having ever gone to battle alongside mutants in Cuba, let alone having loved one of them; Alex had fought in a war that had stripped him of whatever innocence he’d managed to hold even in solitary confinement; Charles had been betrayed by the girl he loved like a sister and the man he considered his best friend, had suffered an injury that had changed forever his life, had fallen and risen again to pursue his naïve dream; and Raven – Raven had become Mystique, a hero for both mutant and humankind, had learnt that battles were fought in equal parts on the field and in the generals’ bedrooms. She had loved and grieved, and turned into something she was finally proud of.

Maybe Hank was the one who’d changed the less; awkward like the teenager he’d been, his comment about Cerebro’s color had brought a slight smile to her lips. They’d grown up and that particular ship had sailed, but he too had played a huge a part in shaping the woman Mystique had become. He’d been the first man she’d ever felt comfortable enough with beside her brother; the first lover she hadn’t had to hide from. She had been too young – at heart, if not in age – to call it love, but the time she’d spent with Hank she would always hold among her happiest memories.

That’s why she cried for his help when her brother started screaming in agony. Gripping Charles’ shoulder like a scared little girl, so different from the self-confident woman she usually carried herself as, she demanded that her friend _do something_ , fix it, because that’s what he did: he fixed things.

What a joke that the only way to fix it was to destroy everything.

 

(X)

 

When he’d left the States after what had happened in Washington, he’d vowed to never go back. He was a wanted man, and alone; he’d thought about going to Westchester, confident Charles would give him a second chance – and a third, and a fourth – but he’d needed a fresh start: to leave everything behind and start anew.

He’d found himself in Poland, where by fate or chance he’d met another Auschwitz survivor; desperation and loneliness had brought them together.

With neither a revenge to carry on nor a Brotherhood to lead, Magneto had been slowly dying, while Erik was just unable to live.

Magda had saved him. She’d showed him a new life, one Magneto would have never considered, one Erik hadn’t dared to dream of.

Magda had healed his wounds and patiently listened when – probably trying to prove to himself he was just unworthy of such luck – he’d confessed all he was to her, expecting her to scream and run away, to call him a monster, to confirm once again how cruel humanity could be with those who where different. But she’d only showed him love.

Holding Nina in his arms for the first time, Erik had cried with joy.

When humans had taken everything from him, he’d cried again, in rage and despair.

 

It was like glancing back in time: Charles, non-blue Mystique, furless Beast, Agent MacTaggert and Havok, all together in that house, a grotesque imitation of what they used to be. If he closed his eyes he could almost hear Banshee’s shrieks, see the chess set in the library.

But he didn’t close his eyes. He stretched his arm, feeling the metal of Charles’ wheelchair as if it were part of himself, and reached with his power to summon it. Raven’s cry didn’t even register in his mind, nor did Alex’s insult or Hank’s scream. A portal appeared and he vanished into it with his new comrades and their unaware new member. The hot sands of Egypt opened on the other side and the mansion disappeared behind their backs.

While En Sabah Nur took place on a rock high enough to overlook the city on the opposite shore of the Nile, Magneto leaned down onto the still form of his friend and gently lifted him into his arms and lay him on the ground. With a tenderness that shouldn’t have been part of a man that had killed without a second thought just hours earlier, Erik peeled off his friend’s jacket to place it under his head and got rid of the metal chair he wouldn’t need anymore. Archangel proudly stood at Nur’s side, ready for the battle, and Psylocke smirked to herself tasting a future where she wouldn’t be forced to hide underground, but Storm’s attentive gaze followed his every move, with intelligent eyes that questioned, judged.

He ignored her. She had followed En Sabah Nur because, just like him, she’d been wronged by those below her, had suffered because of people that should’ve treated them as the gods they were. She was young, probably still too scared, but she would understand that they’d made the right choice; just like Charles.

Destruction was all he’d ever known. Now, it would be what everyone else would know as well.

 

The helmet the ancient mutant shaped for him represented everything Erik had left behind the first time he’d held Magda; with Nur’s powers covering him he didn’t need its protection, but having it in his hands made him feel somehow complete: when he donned it, Magneto was finally born again. And still, his former friend didn’t look in the least intimidated, even towered over by all of them, even rendered innocuous by Nur’s powers while they all had their talents enhanced. It just wasn’t in his nature to back down in the face of danger. Even powerless and immobile, Charles didn’t lose his stubbornness – or his naivety. But time would prove him wrong.

Magneto lifted himself above the city to unleash his power – to show every Homo Sapiens they should bow to their future.

It was liberating.

It was like finally being able to see after a whole life of blindness.

The metal all around the globe vibrated in his blood, the very core of Earth responded to his call. Buildings crumpled to the ground at his mere thought, cars and machines pulverized, the particles following the path drawn by him.

He got lost in the utter power, so pure, so absolute. His eyes closed, he didn’t hear the screams of those below him; not even Nur’s voice registered in his mind anymore. He was so different now from the man those vermin had locked in a prison made of plastic and sand under the Pentagon: he’d been cut from his powers, deaf to the call of metal, blind to the beautiful lines of magnetic fields. The years he’d spent under the Pentagon had been worse than death, but humans would never manage to cage Magneto again: his powers were stronger, his rage was unstoppable; he could feel every iron gate all around the world, every metal bridge, every single gear inside the wristwatches of men and women that were now shaking in fear.

He barely heard Mystique’s voice. She and the silver-haired boy he recognized as the one who’d helped him escape from his prison talked about family, about fighting. A plane crashed a few hundred yards away, and the woman gasped softly – _Charles_ – but he didn’t follow when they left.

Again, he closed his eyes.

_There’s so much more to you than you know, not just pain and anger. There’s good too. I felt it._

_You never had the chance to save your family before. But you do now._

He opened his eyes.

 

(X)

 

The quiet after a battle always felt unnatural: among so much destruction, the silence was as out of place as a rock band in a church. The adrenaline gradually diminishing left her dizzy, her limbs weak and shaky.

Magneto and the white-haired girl slowly floated to the ground, sharing a look of understanding and gratitude.

Mystique sighed and closed her eyes. They’d done it, they’d destroyed another threat – together, like they were meant to be since the beginning. She struggled to her feet and looked at Peter, almost expecting him to jump to his feet and run to his father – _Erik, ‘cause Erik is his father_ , she still couldn’t wrap her head around it – and scream his revelation then and there, but the kid just wobbled on his good leg and kept his head down, as if suddenly afraid to meet Magneto’s eyes. Scared of a reject. She hoped there would be time for them to talk, but who knew what Erik would decide. He’d fought by their side in the end, but he wasn’t a team player, he had never been.

For now, though, he seemed content with standing in the middle of the battlefield, his cape billowing behind him, the helmet glistening in the sun that was slowly peeking out through the clouds. The girl at his side only had eyes for her, though. Mystique bristled at the unwanted attention, just like the one she’d received from the students after the explosion of the school, when she’s involuntarily switched back to her natural form.

She turned into her favourite blond disguise and asked Peter how he was. Behind them, Hank and Alex’s brother jumped to the now exposed first floor of the house to join their friends – and Charles. Among the thrill of the fight, she’d breathed a sigh of relief when she’d heard Apocalypse scream her brother’s name, after the crippling fear at seeing the plane crash in the distance.

Content with Peter’s status, she approached the two former Horsemen, ignoring the way the girl took a respectful step back. “Erik?”

The man turned towards her. The air still vibrated around him, but it no longer held her back; she was able to close the distance and look him in the eye. He met her gaze unflinchingly, the same pride still exuding from him, even though she could see a hint of something – shame? Regret? – in his eyes.

Erik didn’t speak, just spread his arms and gracefully lifted himself to reach the others.

Mystique shook her head and sighed again. Then set to slowly climb the broken walls of the devastated house to follow him.

 

The young redhead telepath was back to looking meek and non-threatening, and seeing her now one would never think she’d been responsible for the extraordinary display of power that had ultimately been Apocalypse’s defeat.

She was kneeling at Charles’ side with Hank and Moira. The woman had an odd expression on her face as she looked at the man – was he _bald_? Raven felt the absurd impulse to tease him – stretched out before her. Hank’s fierce hairy form held a disconcertingly gentle paw on his friend’s shoulder.

Kurt had visibly just woken up, but she could see he was unharmed, only tired. Scott was by him, a hand on his blue schoolmate’s arm, his voice firm as he caught the other up on the latest developments of the battle. Though his eyes were hidden by the red glasses that contained his powers, his mouth was set in such a familiar way Mystique felt a pang of regret at the thought of Alex, lost in the explosion – could she hope he’d somehow survived?

Erik stood a little to the side, as if uncertain if he had the right to be there. It was so uncharacteristic of him that she took pity and voiced the question she knew he wanted to ask.

“Everybody okay?” She wanted to know as well, after all.

Surprisingly, it was Jean who answered in the affirmative, though her eyes lingered on Charles a second too long. Her voice sounded stronger than it had on the plane, her green eyes sparkled with a new light. War made you wiser, stronger. Older.

The quiet after a battle was so weird, she thought again: after moving so fast, screaming so loud, fighting so hard, going back to normal always felt stilted, as if the body couldn’t remember how to do simple things. Everything felt unimportant in the face of what had just happened, and they just stood there in that hollow calm, waiting for a new danger to surface.

It was Moira who broke the silence, announcing they couldn’t stay there much longer. She got up, promising she would find some means of transportation to get back to America. Her eyes were oddly wet.

It was as if she’d flicked a switch with her departure. Hank stood up with a last squeeze to Charles’ shoulder and told – ordered – the three kids to search for survivors among the ruins of the battlefield. He didn’t think they would find anyone, but his never-ending hope compelled him to at least try. At the very least, Nur’s victims deserved a proper burial.

The kids nodded and preceded him down the broken walls. Mystique followed him with her eyes as he jumped down and approached Peter to take care of his broken leg. The white-haired girl patiently sad down among the debris, waiting for the victors to decide her fate.

Once alone, Charles closed his eyes. Raven could see how pale he was under the blood crusted to the side of his head. She flashed back to his agonized screams in Cerebro, and found herself kneeling beside him, a hand reaching to gently stroke his cold cheek.

Her brother slowly focused back on her. A soft smile curled the corners of his lips.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, visibly relieved. Before she could answer, his gaze found Erik and, if possible, brightened even more. “I knew you would find the good in you.”

Erik scoffed, shaking his head at his friend’s undying optimism. He didn’t comment, though – nor did he leave. Maybe Charles was right after all, she marveled.

 

Despite all their best efforts, Kurt and his friends – his teammates – hadn’t found anybody among the ruins, alive or dead. Apocalypse’s powers had disintegrated roads and buildings and people like sandcastles. She saw them through the opening in the wall, returning with their backs hunched over in defeat.

_They’re just kids._

_No. They_ were _kids._

The words she’d overheard twenty years before sounded, again, true and ominous. Mutants, it seemed, were destined to grow up too early. Her heart constricted painfully at the sight of Kurt’s young face devoid of his usual hopeful smile, and she wished to reach out and caress his dark hair, kiss his blue skin. She restrained herself and shot a worried look to her brother, but he didn’t seem conscious enough to talk let alone read her mind.

Nevertheless, she rose to her feet nodding at Erik to stay, and joined the others in the streets.

“I don’t think the CIA is going to help us,” Hank announced when he saw her approaching.  “This means we’ll have to use a more creative way to get a plane.” He looked confident and strong in his furred form, so different than the mild looking man who’d welcomed her back at the school… was it just hours before?

“Charles looks exhausted; I don’t think he’ll be able to help us.”

Hank nodded, having seemingly expected that. The pointed look he gave her was irritating, but when she tried to escape his eyes she found five other people staring at her full of the same faith – and hope.

She wished that fucking day in Washington had never happened.

 

(X)

 

Erik sat down on the floor next to Charles’ makeshift bed and pulled the helmet from his head; he turned it in his hands, watching his reflection on the smooth surface. He could feel the metal it was made of as if it were an extension of his own fingers; all the metal around them called to him. Nur’s powers were still flowing through his veins and he wondered how long their effect would last, if he’d always be like that. The thought for some reason scared him.

“You would probably agree,” he said aloud, even though his companion wasn’t awake to hear. He found himself worried for his friend – and guilty. He hadn’t forgotten that he’d been the one to apprehend Charles, nor had Mystique and Beast, he was sure of that. Not that Magneto was afraid of them.

Still.

Moira came back empty-handed, disappointed that her contacts hadn’t been enough to grant them the lift home they would need. So naïve, just like the man she’d loved. They’d really found each other. Feeling like he was intruding something private, he left the woman sit vigil next to the injured telepath and descended into the street.

He’d never been good at waiting.

He opened his arms, ignoring the wince he caught coursing through the kids and the hard stare Beast aimed at him while splinting the fast boy’s leg; the metal answered his call, floating up around him, returning to the Earth where it belonged. He couldn’t rebuild what Apocalypse had destroyed, but he could give back what he had taken as the fourth Horseman. A useless gesture, but he thought Charles would appreciate it.

The rage hadn’t completely left him; he didn’t think it ever would. The pain was still there, tearing him up inside with every memory that came unexpected. But destruction wasn’t the answer, _right Charles?_ He reached to the point between rage and serenity, and the backbone of a building took shape before him.

Nobody talked around him. Hank ignored him and what he was doing, while the white-haired boy awkwardly stared at him; Charles’ students eyed his work warily. Storm sat a bit to the side, unsure what her role was in all that. He almost wanted to reach out to her, reassure her that Charles would sure forgive anything she’d done, but surprisingly the kid with the dark glasses took the initiative.

When Raven – in the shape of a soldier – came back driving a military truck, announcing that with the right amount of money they would find a plane at the airport ready to take them _wherever the fuck we’ll want_ , they all breathed a sigh of relief: at least money wasn’t a problem.

Hank patted the fast boy’s shoulder and entrusted him to their young teammates before he ran to the wrecked house and reached the first floor in one jump; the kids helped each other onto the truck, and by some unspoken agreement they left a spot for the girl that in the end had helped them in the final battle. Erik was glad for her; he didn’t expect to get the same treatment himself, though.

The furred mutant didn’t descend the walls like he’d done up to that moment, opting to take the door of the house to get down, so as not to jostle too much the precious burden in his arms. Erik felt Raven hold her breath for a moment at the sight of her brother.

While he’d never been very tall, even more so after Cuba and the injury that forced him to look at life from a seated position, he now looked impossibly small and breakable in the massive arms of the Beast. The wound on his head looked even worse because of his sudden baldness and the excessive paleness of his skin. Hank’s face was a mask of feral impassivity, but Moira, trailing behind them, couldn’t hide her worry to the same degree.

Without a word, Erik shook himself and climbed in the front of the truck, appointing himself as driver to the airport. Nobody took the passenger’s seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is five chapters long and I’ve already written them all. I’ll post once per week, so I have enough time to re-read them and fix anything that needs it. Review are always welcome! :D  
> As for the ages, in the end credits to XMFC, McAvoy!Charles is mentioned to be 24, while kid!Charles is supposed to be 12. Which would be okay – it would even match what Logan says about the Professor in DOFP (“I know your powers came when you were nine. I know you thought you were going crazy when it started, all the voices in your head. And it wasn’t until you were twelve that you realized all the voices were in everyone else’s head”: it’s clear kid!Charles has a good mastery of his powers when he finds Raven) – if not for the fact that between 1962 and 1944 there are EIGHTEEN YEARS, not twelve. So I either had to move the kitchen scene forward (but the war would be over by then, Auschwitz would be liberated already) or make everybody younger in the first scene (because I refuse to make McAvoy!Charles 30 in FC, ‘cause that would make him 51 in XMA and the actor barely looks his own age let alone Charles’ XD). I settled for this second option. I hope it’s not too much of a problem for you. And that my reasoning is understandable XD


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to all that read and appreciated my first chapter, especially to Mauerblümchen and Wings90 who took the time to comment and those who kudosed and bookmarked my fic. You guys made me so happy!
> 
> Again, always and forever, my love is for my beautiful friend, freak-outs companion and beta-reader Enrica, without whom this story wouldn’t exist in the first place *hearts*

Reaching the airport made their victory _real_ , at last. Away from the battlefield, with a clear sky above their heads and the hope to get back home soon, the tension finally left their bodies and minds. Kurt, Jean and Scott swarmed out of the truck and onto the small military aircraft where they crashed alongside the walls in silence and soon fell asleep, huddled close to each other. That was how her first mission too should have ended, Raven thought bitterly; but so many things had happened that day, it could’ve never ended any differently. Peter hobbled up after them hanging from Moira’s shoulder, mouth set in a grimace of pain, but he eyed Erik thoughtfully, as if he could implant the knowledge of their blood relation in the other’s head with an intense enough look. The white-haired girl regarded Mystique with the same passion. Which left her stupidly considering the chance they might be related too – the battle had been long and hard, she decided, she was allowed a stupid thought or two.

The plane was ready to take off with Moira and Erik in the cockpit, and the shapeshifter wondered if she’d counted her chickens too soon. It wasn’t going to be a relaxed ride.

Her worry was reinforced when Hank boarded the transport after all the others had taken a seat, again carrying Charles in his arms. Her brother was beginning to stir, but didn’t seem aware of his surroundings. She wanted to sit beside him, to hold his hand and reassure herself he’d be alright, but someone had to take care of what was left behind. Namely a son with no father and a believer with no hero.

 

“That hurt?” Mystique asked softly sitting on the floor next to Peter; he’d finally rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

The boy shrugged. “Drugs wouldn’t work anyway. And it’s not like it’s gonna take long for it to heal, I always heal fast.” He was tired, but she knew this had to be addressed first. Her eyes swept the cabin for a moment before she said, “I thought you were gonna tell him, earlier.”

He opened his eyes. There was a heaviness there that looked out of place in the usually so upbeat boy. “Me too,” he answered.

“You won’t have many occasions to talk to him once we reach New York.”

The boy snorted.

“When I saw him on TV, ten years ago, he looked… different. More…” He visibly struggled for words. “There was so much pain in him when you mentioned his family to him, earlier. What right do I have to reopen that wound?”

It was Raven’s turn to scoff.

“That wound will never close anyway. What right do you have to keep this from him?”

Peter started as if she’d slapped him in the face. Her eyes were on her brother, on the other side of the aircraft, but her attention was on the confused boy beside her.

“What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me?”

“Too bad, he doesn’t have a choice.”

The boy pondered her words for a moment before adding, “There’s not just me.”

Mystique’s head whirled toward him so fast she thought it would fly away from her neck – she really _was_ tired.

“What?” she asked in much the same fashion she had after the first revelation in Stryker’s prison. Did Erik make a habit of sowing kids around?

“I have a sister. A twin sister,” he answered. “She didn’t really agree with my decision to come look for Erik, and I didn’t know if Xavier would help me find him anyway, so she stayed home – well, not _home_ , she’s away, at college.”

Two kids. _Twins_. Mystique needed to sleep for a month to recover from that long day.

“Is she…” she started before thinking her question through.

“Yes, she’s a mutant.” He sounded annoyed at her insinuation, and Raven looked away, back to her brother who was stretched out on the floor of the plane with Erik’s cape pillowing his head, too weak to do more than nod at Hank’s soft questions.

“What’s her name?” she asked.

“Wendy.” He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. The shapeshifter took note to be more careful the next time she mentioned Peter’s sister.

 

The white-haired girl sat by herself, pride in her eyes, a trembling in her hands. If he’d been any better, Charles surely would’ve already formally offered her his friendship and a place in his school. He had a way of gaining other people’s trust that had nothing to do with his telepathy. The sincerity and kindness in his voice made them want to follow him anywhere.

But he wasn’t better – _not yet,_ she firmly told herself – and Hank was busy taking care of him, and the other students were sleeping, so the job fell onto her.

She resignedly sat beside the girl, stubbornly keeping her blond mask before addressing her.

“There’s a school in Westchester,” she began, because she was sure Charles would have it rebuilt as soon as he knew, and would find some place to house his kids in the meantime – he was lucky to be rich as he was, she chuckled to herself. “For mutants,” she added when the girl didn’t react.

“I tried to kill them,” she said.

Raven shrugged.

“And still they didn’t object when you followed us.”

“I don’t know why I came with you.”

“I do,” she replied without missing a beat. “You know, Erik shot me, once,” she said with a glance to the cockpit, where the man sat next to Moira, watching her every more while she piloted the aircraft across the ocean.

The girl nodded. “You were limping in Washington,” she said. Mystique felt disturbed that she’d noticed and even remembered. _I’m a hero_. She really didn’t like that.

“And he started this battle on the other side too. But in the end he fought together with us, today,” she went on as if the teenager hadn’t spoken. “And so have you.”

The girl lifted her eyes onto her. There were a hope and a trust that Raven didn’t want to disappoint, but didn’t think she deserved.

“Mystique…” The girl said her name with a respect that made her self-conscious.

“Raven,” she corrected, surprising even herself, and shifted back to her natural form.

The girl looked at her yellow eyes, bewildered.

“Ororo,” she answered after a moment. And smiled.

 

(X)

 

He’d never particularly appreciated the woman at his side. While he recognized she wasn’t that bad for a human, her genetics still made her a lesser being. An enemy. She could fight by their side, but at the end of the day she was still one of them.

He’d tried to be part of their world, he’d hidden himself, denying his true self, and for a while he’d even succeeded. He even thought he’d made some friends. But they’d turned their backs on him as soon as they’d found out what he really was. Humans were destined to fear what was different, what was _better_.

_But not Magda._

Magda had been an exception, a rare bright spot in an ocean of darkness. He recognized Moira was another, but she’d still succumbed to her nature when she’d perceived him as a threat in Cuba. And how well that had turned out…

“If you are gonna flip out again I hope you wait for us to land,” the woman said noticing his clenched fists. Her tone irked him, but he still relaxed his hands. “Have you decided what you’re gonna do once we get to Westchester?” she asked.

The question surprised him. He could respect that she wasn’t showing fear in that moment.

Still, she didn’t have the right to demand answers from him.

As if sensing his thoughts she added, “I’m only asking so the others won’t have to add you to the list of things to worry about; it’s a long enough list as it is, what with Charles in that condition and the school destroyed…”

“Wait, the school destroyed?”

Had that happened after they’d left? Because sure as hell he didn’t remember anything like that.

MacTaggert nodded.

“When Alex tried to hit Apocalypse and you all vanished, his powers hit the wall and… I’m not really sure, but there was an explosion. If it weren’t for Peter we wouldn’t have survived.”

_Does Charles know?_

He felt an unexpected twinge of sadness for his friend – and maybe, just maybe, not just for him.

 

They landed on the far side of Xavier’s property, covered by the darkness of the night. The kids were all asleep, but the shutting down of the engines woke them up. With no school to return to, Hank had contacted one of the other teachers to make sure everyone was safe and reported the news to his teammates: the students whose families lived close by had been returned home – for now, he stressed at the anxious look he received from the kids – while the others had been split between a hotel and a few emergency tents they had managed to erect in the school grounds for those whose mutations made them still too self-conscious or dangerous to be among humans.

“Peter is gonna need a hospital,” the doctor went on. “But you can decide whether you wanna stay here for the night or join your friends at the nearest hotel.”

He’d grown a lot since Cuba. He’d learnt to move with his natural appearance with a confidence and an ease he would never have been capable of, before, and that weren’t present in his other form. And yet, his gentle nature was still there, in the soft gaze he directed to his young charges, to his employer and friend still too out of it to be of any real help, to the women he’d fought alongside with – not to him, though. The steel look he directed at Erik conveyed a promise of pain, if the Master of Magnetism tried anything the Beast wouldn’t like.

He scoffed to himself, but didn’t challenge his former student.

The teenagers decided to stay at the property to help with anything if needed, and in the meantime went off to search for the friends camping in the grounds, dragging a bewildered Storm along; Moira announced she had to return to the CIA, though she didn’t elaborate on what she was gonna say, and Raven elected herself to drive Peter to the hospital. She gave Erik an odd look, but didn’t say anything before leaving with the boy.

That left Erik with Hank and a blinking Charles.

“Where are we?” the professor asked noticing the plane had stopped. He tried to raise his head but gave up halfway there.

Hank bit his lip, unsure what to tell him. Magneto felt annoyed: no matter how childish his beliefs, Charles wasn’t a kid, and didn’t need to be coddled and hidden the truth.

“The school. Or what’s left of it,” he answered, gaining a murderous look from the Beast.

Their friend just frowned, puzzled. He turned the words over in his mind for a few seconds before panic settled in.

“What happened? Where…” He struggled to sit up, but was easily kept down by a gentle paw.

“There was an explosion,” Erik answered vaguely. No coddling didn’t necessarily mean brutal honesty; it would be just as pointless. “The building has been destroyed.”

Horror blossomed on Charles’ face. “The children…” he whispered.

“They’re fine,” Hank promptly answered throwing Erik a dirty look. “They’re safe. Some of them are camping here in the grounds because of their mutations, while the others are in a hotel not far from here. The teachers took care of them.”

It seemed to be enough for Charles, because he stopped trying to sit up and relaxed back onto the floor. His eyes blinked in and out of focus, but he stubbornly kept awake.

“I want to see.”

Hank sighed.

“Charles, you need to rest. There’ll be plenty of time to see what happened.”

And to know the whole truth. Erik didn’t need to be a telepath to know Beast was hiding something. For their friend’s sake he hoped nobody had been hurt.

Though… He had seen Havok when he’d come fetch Charles, but he hadn’t been in Cairo.

As if reading his mind – which he probably was, since Magneto had left his newly made helmet in Egypt – the telepath frowned and asked, “Where is Alex?”

Hank’s wince was more than enough answer.

Charles closed his eyes and turned his head toward the wall. They pretended to not notice his tears.

 

The morning dawned cold and merciless on the ruins of a broken dream.

With all the dignity a grown man could muster while hanging from a blue anthropomorphic animal’s neck, Professor Xavier silently regarded what was left of his childhood home, his eyes dry and expression grim. Though still pale, trembling from the effort of keeping his head up, his voice was firm when he announced he was going to call a construction company to rebuild everything as soon as possible. In the meantime, he would rent somewhere big enough for all the students to sleep, eat and study in, as if nothing had changed.

“I will help,” Erik announced surprising even himself.

The look Charles gave him was so full of gratitude the Master of Magnetism felt uncomfortable. The red-haired girl intervened to offer her aid as well, and before sundown all the students had decided they would contribute to the reconstruction in their own way.

 

(X)

 

Peter insisted that he didn’t want her to call his family.

“I’m an adult, I don’t need anyone to sign for me,” he argued. Which was true, but wasn’t the reason she’d suggested it: if there was one thing Raven knew, it was that a sister should be near her brother when he was in the hospital. She hadn’t, and no day had passed without her regretting it.

She didn’t say anything, though, just sat down and patiently listened to him complain about slowness and boredom and how much he hated waiting – basically about anything but the pain he had to be in – for what seemed like hours. By the time the boy was brought to a room to spend the night he’d succumbed to sleep. Raven shook her head and prepared to spend the rest of his stay with him. Any time someone of the medical personnel poked in to check on the young patient, she shifted into the shape of a nurse and politely smiled conveying she had everything under control – she’d already been assured the break in the bone was a clean one and should heal with no consequences, after all. She couldn’t afford to have anyone find out the drugs weren’t working for as long as they were supposed to and realize he wasn’t human; not when she wasn’t in top condition herself and couldn’t spring him out fast enough if anything went wrong with his caretakers.

Furthermore, she had no intention to leave him alone. It sounded silly, and probably childish, but she felt like she needed to stay. Some kind of atonement for not being there for her own brother.

Peter woke up every now and then, the pain of his injury and the itchiness from the cast making him too uncomfortable to sleep for long stretches of time, but went right back under every time with a few blinks and a sigh. It was… endearing.

Mystique snorted to herself. She was going soft.

She tried to imagine Erik in her place. What would he say once he found out he had two children? He’d just lost his family, a woman and a little girl he’d loved dearly, whose death had pushed him over the edge once again. He had come through in the end, but would the revelation disrupt his delicate balance? She had to confess – if only to herself – she didn’t know him well enough to anticipate his reaction.

Still, she believed he had the right to know. And felt confident enough that he wouldn’t break the boy’s nose, at the very least. Anything more was beyond her ability to guess.

An elderly nurse came in the room and stopped short at seeing what she believed to be a colleague sitting at the patient’s bedside.

“Just resting a minute,” Mystique apologized sweetly. “I’m gonna resume my shift right away.”

The older woman shook her head and sighed briefly before nodding.

“Don’t stay long, though.”

“Sure. Thank you,” the mutant smiled while the other left and closed the door behind her.

Alone again, Raven resumed her musing. The night ahead was long still.

 

She must’ve nodded off, because next thing she knew Peter was urging her awake.

“We need to leave,” he whispered, the words so fast her sleep-clouded mind took a long moment to process.

“Why?” she blinked, straightening in the uncomfortable plastic chair.

“If the doctor checks on me he will see something wrong with my healing – or, you know, too much _right_ ,” he hurriedly explained.

Mystique slowly turned toward the closed door, as if she expected it to suddenly burst open and reveal a squad of soldiers ready to kidnap the mutants in the room. The thought sent chills up her spine. Looking back at the boy she was about to agree and help him up, but a closer scrutiny made her frown.

“You don’t look _right_ ,” she pointed out.

The kid was disheveled and had dark circles under his eyes, but that wasn’t what made her pause – a night in a hospital bed didn’t count for proper sleep, he was bound to be tired. No, what made her reconsider her decision were the deep lines at the sides of his mouth and eyes, the slightly dilated pupils, his short breaths. The kid was in pain.

“I’m right _er_ than I’m supposed to be. Believe me, they’ll notice,” he insisted.

Raven briefly considered her options. If Peter was right, and the panic in his voice suggested he really knew what he was talking about – had something like this happened already? – they had to leave, and soon: while she was reasonably sure Stryker was still in Canada, he wasn’t the only racist bastard out there, and if rumor of a mutant in the hospital reached the wrong ears the kid would be in danger. Her mind flashed back to Trask’s files on his experimentations – _Azazel_ – and her heart constricted. On the other hand, though, there was the fact the school was destroyed, which meant they didn’t have Hank’s laboratory or the infirmary: whatever they left the hospital with would be all Peter was gonna have until his leg healed, however long it would take, both in terms of drugs and doctor’s words.

She was gonna have to trust his word that he really would be fine soon.

“Fine. But we do it _my_ way,” she stressed.

“As long as your way is fast,” he replied without missing a beat.

 

Disguising herself as a nurse once again, Raven pushed the wheelchair holding a reluctant Peter toward the exit – “Standard hospital policy, kid, if we’re not to attract unwanted attention you can’t just limp your way out of here”. She fed him a light painkiller she’d stolen, because a short-lived effect was better than none at all, and helped him stand with the support of a pair of crutches for the few steps separating the hospital entrance from their car.

Once she had started the engine and driven out of the parking lot, Peter finally deflated. He rested his head against the window, shoulders slumping in relief.

“You gonna tell me?” the woman asked after a few silent minutes. She was back to wearing the blond face she’d created at six years old to blend in in Charles’ house.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered, and he might as well have just said he didn’t want to talk. Mystique thought the kid needed to learn how to lie properly.

“So you just woke up and decided out of nowhere that mean doctors were gonna target you?” she insisted.

“I’m a mutant,” was all he answered; he shut his eyes, as if that closed the conversation. But Raven had been a little sister for almost twenty years, she knew how to nag someone until capitulation.

She nodded, stopping the car at a red light. “But it’s currently unconstitutional for a doctor to treat a mutant patient any different than any human one.”

Peter scoffed.

“You agreed to spring me out, so don’t pretend you didn’t think it was a concrete danger.”

Raven chuckled.

_You still sound just like him, you sound just like Erik._

“But I’m a paranoid bitch. What’s your excuse?”

That got a slight smile out of the boy, but he didn’t elaborate any further.

“It happened before,” he whispered after a while. The woman listened patiently while Peter slowly – with so many pauses they were at the school gates by the time he finished – recounted what had happened to him when he was a little boy; the momentary elation when he’d unexpectedly started running faster than all of his friends during a game of tag, the confusion when he’d found himself sprinting through the park in less than a second – he couldn’t even see his mother anymore – the pain when he’d smacked his head against a tree he hadn’t even noticed, so fast he was. The fear when he’d woken up in the hospital, a twelve years old boy with a concussion and a heart suddenly beating too fast.

The horror when his twin sister had seen him awake and thrown her arms around his neck, and next he knew nobody could get close to them, as if an invisible bubble surrounded the twins protecting them from everyone else.

The panic when later that day a man in a suit had come to take them away when their mom wasn’t present, calling them monsters.

The breaking out of the hospital, the return home, the tears, their mother’s hug, the confused crying of their baby sister.

The gates opened at the approaching car, and Raven was glad she didn’t have time to reply, because she didn’t know what to say.

 

(X)

 

Erik wasn’t sure why he’d stayed.

He wasn’t seeking forgiveness for what he’d done, as some brave students had dared to suggest – he’d sent them scrambling away with barely a glare – nor had he suddenly embraced Charles’ silly way like he knew the telepath secretly hoped.

He’d just… stayed.

They’d started the reconstruction the very next day, under the still glassy but attentive look of the Professor. They’d managed to find a wheelchair so he could freely move around, but it wasn’t the sleek customized model they’d left in Cairo – Erik _tried_ not to feel guilty about that – and he was still too weak to push himself, so he ended up sitting under a tree examining the blueprints and directing the others. Hank had to physically drag him to the hotel to rest when evening came.

Their other wounded soldier limped around the construction site throwing Magneto odd looks that confused him – they’d barely interacted in Cairo, was it about ten years before or… what? – but didn’t try to even approach him. He tried to pretend it didn’t bother him, but the third day in a row he caught the kid staring while he was lifting a couple of metal bars to plant along the others he’d already set – Nur’s effect was slowly diminishing and Erik found himself glad for that, though it slowed his work – he decided he’d had enough. He was about to – admittedly not very nicely – tell him to stop when Raven appeared at his side and put a hand on his arm, restraining him.

“What?” he sharply asked. The woman shook her head, a plea in her eyes.

Erik was more confused than ever.

 

The whispers hadn’t stopped, though nobody had directly questioned him about his reasons. He didn’t think they suddenly trusted him, it must have more to do with the fact that Charles had just allowed him to stay, paying for a room for him in their same hotel, welcoming his help, putting all their lives in his hands: if their beloved Professor trusted him – and for the life of him Erik couldn’t fathom _how_ – it was enough for them.

It was almost a week before any meaningful words were exchanged between the two – former? – friends. There was no chess set between them, no scotch in their hands, no elegant library around them; they met in the hotel hall late at night. Erik couldn’t sleep and had decided to go for a walk when he’d come across Charles who was just returning from a meeting with the hotel manager.

“Everything okay?” he asked seeing the other struggling to wheel himself across the expensive carpet. It had been six days and the telepath was just regaining some of his color.

He had no idea what exactly had gone down between Xavier and Apocalypse, but its effects were lasting more than he would’ve expected – more than Raven and Hank liked, judging from the worried looks and mother-henning attitudes the two had been directing at Charles.

“It’s been a long day,” the other replied stopping in front of the elevator and reaching out to push the call button.

It was awkward; he wished he could ease the uncomfortable atmosphere between them, and knew he couldn’t.

They entered the car – wasn’t Erik going for a midnight walk? – and rode in silence to their floor. The whole hotel had been rented thanks to the seemingly endless funds of the Xavier family, so the students could be together and safe – _hiding, always hiding_ – until their school, their _home_ , would be ready to house them again.

When the elevator stopped, and Charles slowly pushed himself out, Erik found himself reaching with his powers to help him.

“ _Don’t._ ”

Magneto stopped. The other, a couple of paces ahead, his back to him, had his hands tightly clenched on the metal rims of the wheels to prevent the chair from moving. His back was taut, shoulders rigid, bald head straight.

Erik closed his eyes.

Again, he’d been the (not so) indirect reason his friend had been hurt. He should’ve known not even saint Xavier could just bounce back from that umpteenth betrayal. He remembered the moment on the plane to Paris when he’d finally witnessed the consequences of his actions; when Charles had spat into his face all the pain and the desperation of a man who’d reached rock bottom and didn’t know how to get back on his feet – who _couldn’t get back on his feet_.

He’d thought he’d left his old self behind when he’d escaped to Europe, but Nur had shown him he was still that same man. The enhanced powers hadn’t been Apocalypse’s only revelation: the ancient mutant had proved him that, no matter how much he ran, he was still the boy who’d indirectly killed his mother.

“I am sorry.”

Erik started. Had it not been for the British accent, he would’ve thought he’d been the one to utter those words.

With what seemed like a monumental effort, Charles unclenched his hands and rested them on the arms of the chair, forcing his shoulders to relax and lean against the backrest.

Erik didn’t speak. He lifted hands that weighted a ton and grabbed the handles of the chair to manually help his friend to his room.

 

Alex’s funeral was held at the school. They didn’t have a body to bury, but Charles had a gravestone engraved and set in a remote part of the school grounds to honor his student and friend; Erik found there was a grave for Sean as well.

From what he’d been able to reconstruct, the boy had been orphaned because of a stupid car accident while he was deployed in Vietnam, and his younger brother and only relative had been adopted by a loving family that had never liked troublemaker Alex much; they’d tried to keep them apart, too afraid of the older Summers – a mutant and a former convicted felon: he’d represented everything any decent suburban family should despise. When their beloved son had revealed a mutant as well, they’d found themselves asking for his brother’s help, but the distrust toward him hadn’t vanished – if anything, it had transposed to Scott as well, to the point the teenager now found himself with no family supporting him at Havok’s grave. He wasn’t the only one crying though: the whole school had loved the unusual part-time professor, and they all rallied around the brother who’d been left behind to show their support.

Erik held himself away from the crowd, half hidden among the trees, silently grieving the kid he’d helped recruit and train so many years before; remembering the outwardly gruff boy who’d asked to be kept in solitary confinement because he didn’t want to hurt other people. He might not have known him as well as Charles and Hank, sitting in the front row next to Scott, but he felt compelled to attend the service: he was at least half responsible for his death.

After the ceremony, he watched from afar the kids hugging in turns the young Summers and then leaving him alone with the gravestone. The last to leave was Charles, who gave a last squeeze to the boy’s hand before joining the others. The redhead telepath, though, detached herself from the students’ crowd and turned on her heels to stop back at Scott’s side. She took his hand, and together they stood before the marble slat.

Unseen, Magneto retreated in the shadows of the trees and left them alone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I thank from the bottom of my heart those who took the time to review, namely Nemhaine42, Mauerbluemchen, Inavia and Lilynette and those who bookmarked my fic and left kudos. I’m so glad you’re enjoying this!
> 
> My undying love and gratitude goes to my friend and beta-reader Enrica, one of the best people I know in the world. Thank you so much, honey! *hearts*

At dinner, one night, Ororo announced her new friends she was going to stay at the school. Apparently, she’d talked with the Professor, and he hadn’t been discouraged by her lack of basic education – nor by the side she’d taken at the beginning of the battle. The kids sounded happy with her decision, though nobody looked surprised: they all knew there would always be a place for mutants at Xavier’s school – even for those who had made mistakes in the past, Raven thought exchanging a look with Erik, who stood at the other side of the hotel restaurant, stubbornly refusing to sit and have dinner with the rest of them.

She shook her head, returning her attention to the kids cheering around the table; to Scott, so serious behind his soft smile – such a contrast with his brother – and Jean, who clapped her hands like a little girl, so different from the powerful creature she’d been in Cairo; and to Kurt, who smiled the brighter as he welcomed the white-haired girl to the school he’d started feeling as his home right away.

She hadn’t had any occasions yet to be alone with them and talk about what they’d done, how they’d come to the adults’ aid after Stryker had kidnapped all the known faces he’d found; they didn’t have to – more importantly, they didn’t even have a proper training – but they had come anyway. She knew Charles had talked to them, thanked them, probably, but she felt compelled to do the same. Her gaze lingered on Kurt, and she whipped it back to her plate, afraid someone would notice.

 

After much insistence on her part, Peter had finally called home and reassured his mother he was fine – he didn’t mention his broken leg, though, “’cause it’s already healed anyway” – but no other step forward had been made.

When asked about it, he awkwardly changed the subject, putting off the moment he’d have to face his father. Almost a month later, with the school mostly rebuilt, Raven decided it was time to act and caught him by surprise entering his room early in the morning.

“What do you even care?” was the boy’s snappy reply.

 What did she care? She frowned. _I have a revelation to make of my own and I’m scared shitless at the thought of a reject_.

She was using him, she realized. Without a word, the shapeshifter turned on her heels and left the room.

She wasn’t expecting to find the CIA agent in the hotel hall – back so soon? Her recovered memories had left her understandably shaken, and her disappearance after their return to America had felt like an escape. Not that Mystique had any right to judge anyone for that, she snorted to herself. Still, the hurt look in her brother’s eyes when he’d found Moira had returned to the CIA – he’d managed to hide it just as it had appeared, but they couldn’t pretend not to notice he’d asked about her as soon as he’d been able to – hadn’t been easy to forget.

“Mystique,” the woman recognized her in the hotel hall.

“Moira,” she nodded her greeting.

The woman smiled politely, though uncomfortably.

“I went to the school and was told by one of the students that I could find… Charles, here.”

Raven didn’t miss her slight hesitation before her brother’s name; she didn’t comment though, just nodded and showed her the way to his room, where he was already awake and discussing something with Hank.

“Moira.” He positively beamed at her when she appeared through the door.

The woman smiled – Raven was relieved to notice the expression didn’t look as forced as a few minutes before – and took a seat on the chair just vacated by Hank.

“A committee has been named to discuss what happened. I managed to convince them that mutants were as much responsible for the defeat of the menace known as En Sabah Nur as for the destruction and body count,” she started with no preamble. The atmosphere in the room changed instantly: Beast – he was still blue, having probably lost his serum in the explosion, but he looked at ease in a way he hadn’t before – crossed his arms, a frown on his face; Charles straightened in his chair, the pleased look replaced by a leader’s attentive one. Raven just started: she hadn’t exactly expected the woman to have come back to rekindle her relationship with her lover of twenty years before, but she was still caught by surprise by her all-business approach. “Problem is that makes them as much killers as saviors.”

Her brother nodded, inviting her to go on. Moira sighed.

“I managed to keep the school out, and I am confident Stryker won’t step forward to reveal your – and his – involvement, but we all heard your voice in our head, Charles, and I can’t change that.” Her tone was very matter-of-fact, nothing in her manners giving away her thoughts.

“I imagined as much,” he replied. And it was like watching a movie with no audio and no subtitles. A quick look to Hank confirmed he didn’t understand any more than her.

“I gather you have a plan,” the woman went on.

“That I have.”

Raven was more confused than ever.

 

After the obscure conversation, Charles had asked her and Hank to excuse them for a minute while he and agent MacTaggert discussed some other things. She keenly hoped they would address the memory erasure – and overcome it.

“I would’ve never taken you for a romantic,” her friend chuckled when she revealed her thoughts.

She didn’t reply, ‘cause neither would she. Still, she thought when she saw Kurt and his friends pass her through the hotel corridors, maybe she had always been one.

“He has blue skin. Like you.” The comment startled her, causing a falter in her steps, but Hank didn’t seem to notice. “… and me and a handful of other students. It seems a common mutation, like telepathy” he mused.

Raven managed a chocked _yes_ but couldn’t comment any further, too relieved to come up with a better reply. Her heart didn’t have enough time to slow its sudden quickened pace, though, because her friend stopped and turned to her.

“And he has a tail and the ability to teleport.”

His eyes were as gentle as ever, bearing down on her, and yet she felt cold all over.

Hank gave her a sad smile.

“You couldn’t really think nobody would notice,” he went on, and she wanted to leave, to run away and never look back. It had been a mistake, she should have never come back, she should have left already… “He doesn’t know, though, right?” the other asked when she didn’t reply, and sighed. “I wish you would trust me – or Charles, at the very least. But I’m not gonna judge you. I really have no right.” He gave a soft, self-deprecating chuckle. “I hope I didn’t make you want to leave with this: your secret is safe with me, I won’t ever talk about it again if you don’t want to.”

He resumed walking, head down, shoulders slumped, leaving her behind.

 

 (X)

 

The school was almost complete. Last part they rebuilt was the elevator to the basement and the parts of the underground structure that had been destroyed, but, since their existence was to be kept a secret from the students, the job fell onto Hank and Erik alone – not that the latter’s involvement with the project had been welcomed without protests. In the end, though, Charles’ word had been enough to placate all objections – again.

Thirty days after Cairo, the school was ready to open again.

The kids happily returned to the 1407 of Graymalkin Lane, chose new rooms and started decorating walls and surfaces with all the things that spoke of home. The lessons resumed, everything seemed to have gone back to normal.

And yet Erik didn’t leave, though he had no intention to stay and had made it clear the first night they had played chess at the hotel: he wanted to make sure everything was fine, but Magneto would eventually leave. Charles had just nodded – a little sad, maybe, but aware he couldn’t change his friend’s mind. (Although he could, and every day Erik wondered why he hadn’t, why the doubts and the will to go were still there.)

The library wasn’t as full of books as it had been – Charles laughingly reassured him that he was taking care of that as well – but the chess set was back where it was meant to be. Magneto sat before it, waiting for his friend to finish his class. He picked up a piece and regarded it as if it contained the answer to his dilemma. Hank knocked on the door and entered, but froze when he saw him.

“I was looking for Charles,” he uselessly explained.

“He’s teaching.”

Beast nodded. He briefly looked around, as if searching for a way to leave that wouldn’t look too rude, but in the end sighed and dragged a chair to sit on the opposite side of the chess set.

“Why are you still here, Erik?” he straightforwardly asked. His blue form seemed to give him a confidence his other self wouldn’t have; Magneto felt proud of him despite everything.

“You want me to leave?”

Hank scoffed. “ _Yes_. But that’s beside the point. I thought you would leave as soon as you could – hell, I expected you to leave _in Cairo_.”

_As I did._

“I don’t need to explain myself to you.” Magneto got up and walked to the window, turning his back to the other.

“No, you don’t.” The words were spoken slowly. “But the longer you remain, the worst it will hurt when you finally leave.”

Erik frowned, looking back at him.

“Charles knows I’m not staying.” But Hank just shook his head.

“I’m not talking about Charles.”

 

Students of all ages crowded the corridors, swarming from one class to the next, chatting happily to each other, discussing teachers and assignments. They all looked so innocent, back among those walls that had protected them for years. And still, the world outside was changing again.

The events in Cairo had shaken the already precarious balance that Washington had created. Mutants had defeated the villain, but he had been a mutant himself. Erik clenched his hands glaring at the journalist on TV who was recounting the facts as if humans had no fault in what had happened.

“It is not a matter of faults, my friend,” Charles distractedly commented moving his rook two squares ahead. Magneto turned his glare onto him; Xavier laughed. “I am not reading your mind. What you are thinking is quite clear from your expression.”

The glare turned into a snort.

“There will never be peace, if for any one of us that makes a mistake they turn against our whole kind. They need to _understand_.” He didn’t need to reach out with his hand to move the metal bishop and capture the other’s pawn.

“May I remind you of the role you played in said mistake?” The white rook was moved again.

There was no recrimination in his tone, yet Erik bristled. He didn’t miss a beat, though, in replying, “And wouldn’t you be mad if for my mistakes they blamed you? _Aren’t you?_ ” Because, were it not for him, Nur wouldn’t have gotten to Charles, wouldn’t have delivered the false god’s message, thus revealing the mutants’ involvement in all the destruction.

The Professor sat back, fingers intertwined, elbows on the armrests of his chair.

“You can’t prove them wrong by proving they have a right to fear us, Erik. We stopped him, like Raven stopped you ten years ago. One step at a time, my friend.”

Magneto scoffed.

“You have too much patience.”

“And you too little. I am astonished that you are so good at chess.” He resumed the game pushing forward his other rook. They played in silence for a few minutes before Charles sighed. “And yet you are right on one account.” The surprise was so great, Erik was distracted from the move he’d been planning for the last half hour. “I’m not as naïve as you like to think.”

It wasn’t until, one day, Hank announced he had rebuilt Cerebro and Erik found him and Charles in the basement late at night – he’d only gone downstairs because he couldn’t sleep, and was suddenly glad he hadn’t chosen to take a walk through the grounds – that the meaning of his words finally became clear.

“It’s not yet as sophisticated as the one we had before, but it should do,” the furred mutant was telling his friend and mentor, but he stopped as soon as he saw Erik exit the elevator. Laughably, he tried to block the newcomer’s passage, but no way the Master of Magnetism was gonna accept to be kept in the dark like some student.

“I wish you would have just let it be,” Charles sighed at last before allowing him to follow inside Cerebro.

After watching his friend connect to all the minds in the world and wipe out their memories of Nur’s telepathic message, Erik wished he had too.

 

“ _And you let him? After last time?_ ”

Erik had thought he had seen Mystique angry before, but realized now how wrong he had been. She’d always been short-tempered; her passion had always burned bright, primal, instinctive, making her a beautiful asset in the field, but completely unfit for anything requiring a cold mind – though she had grown more thoughtful and detached in the last twenty years, becoming a better strategist.

The rage she unleashed when Hank explained to the bemused sister why her brother was unconscious in the Beast’s arms in the middle of the night, though, was different. It was visceral, pure – and frightening in a way the girl who’d been a part of the first Brotherhood had never managed.

To his credit, Hank didn’t show any fear.

“It was his decision,” he replied.

Wrong answer. For all her annoyance at her brother’s will to protect her when she didn’t need it, she was just the same.

“And you should have stopped him!” she snapped back. They were alone in the corridor and the kids’ dormitories were in the other wing of the mansion, but keeping the conversation private didn’t seem to be her priority anyway. Her sharp gaze turned briefly onto Erik, but with a deep breath she seemed to decide this wasn’t a battle worth fighting. Her body changed into that of a man twice her build to take her brother from their friend – an arm behind his back, the other under his knees, gently cradling him to her chest like a child – and carry him to his room, leaving the two men behind.

“I guess that went well,” Hank murmured, and Erik didn’t know whether to laugh or reconsider his life, since he was now sharing jokes with Henry McCoy.

 

(X)

 

Raven liked to think she wasn’t one who was easily scared. She’d been afraid on her first mission, when she’d been twenty-four and not nearly as mature as she’d claimed to be, but since then she’d traveled the world, fought in more wars than she could remember; seen the worst of human – and mutant – nature. So she wasn’t easily scared.

But seeing her brother passed out in their friend’s arms had sent her into a panic that had made her feel like a helpless child. _Again_.

She knew, better than anyone, that you couldn’t stop Charles when he set his mind onto something, stubborn as he was – she firmly ignored the irony of their similarity – and him being a telepath didn’t help matters any; but knowing he’d used Cerebro after what had happened last time, after being barely recovered from Cairo, had sent all logic to hell. She’d needed someone to blame, and Hank was just so _easy_.

Seeing Erik at his side had helped calm her. Whatever had happened she couldn’t change. But she would be damned if she let them near her brother now.

“I’m turning into you,” she whispered to Charles’ unconscious form.

Or maybe she’d always been like that.

She sighed, leaning back against the armchair cushions, her gaze wandering around the room and never settling onto anything.

“I didn’t really understand when you told Moira you had a plan,” she went on; him being out allowed her to talk without any fear. “But maybe I was just trying to pretend I didn’t. I just wasn’t ready to face that you _have_ changed: old Charles wouldn’t have done it, used his powers like that.” She paused, remembering that he’d erased the CIA agent’s memories twenty years before. “Or maybe he would. I realize I didn’t know you as well as I thought.”

_And this hurts._

She’d always been the one with secrets, the one hiding her real appearance, her true dreams; he was the transparent one, with no ambiguity, no dark sides. The one you end up underestimating because he always seemed so uncomplicated, so innocent, so naïve, so harmless.

He wasn’t supposed to have secrets.

“I guess I was wrong.”

She got up, determined to leave the room, but then changed her mind and turned back. She took one of his shirts to cover her nudity – she didn’t need clothes, but she knew he would freak out if he woke and found his naked sister sleeping at his side – and climbed into his bed like she’d done countless times during their shared childhood, after a nightmare or a bad day.

“Sometimes I miss it,” she confessed just because he couldn’t hear her. There were so many things she wanted to say just because he wouldn’t know, and she felt guilty for that.

_I wish you would trust me – or Charles, at the very least._

But she did trust them… didn’t she?

 

Come morning, Raven allowed Hank in to check on her brother, though she didn’t leave the room. In the end, the furred doctor assured her that Charles was just exhausted after using his powers for the first time after what Nur had done to him.

“I’m sorry,” he concluded, and though she still wanted someone to get mad at, she had no right to vent her rage onto the one person she knew was a real friend to her brother – the only one who hadn’t left him after Cuba, and had stayed at his side for all the years after.

“I know,” she softly replied. “I’m sorry too.”

The silence was uncomfortable, but neither of them felt like breaking it, and in the end Hank left the room mumbling something about breakfast. To her surprise, Raven followed him.

“Does it mean we don’t have anything more to fear from what happened in Cairo?” she asked.

The other shook his head.

“No, he just removed the telepathic message. He would’ve had to rewrite billions of minds, I don’t think he could have even if had wanted to.” He didn’t seem bothered by the moral implications of that idea, and that thought sent shivers down her spine: what her brother could do with his powers was scary enough, what he was _willing_ to do with them was frightening – but the fact that Hank didn’t seem bothered at all by it cut her breath in her throat. She really had underestimated their devotion to the mutant cause. “And it’s been a month, anyway: there have been interviews to witnesses, TV debates, footages from Cairo… it was all we could do.”

“So… they still know it was mutant-related,” she concluded.

Hank gave a short bitter laugh.

“What else could do that? An entire city almost wiped out from Earth, not to mention what Erik did to other places… And before that, the nukes all countries shot in the air – no human could’ve done anything like that.” He made a pause. “There are some conspiracy theories, of course, but they’re even crazier than an Egyptian god coming back to life after thousands of years to recreate his kingdom, if you believe that, so…” He shrugged, scratching his head, and despite his blue fur and six-foot-three height he looked closer to the scrawny babbling kid he’d been so long before.

That, more than anything else, reminded her of the first time she’d seen him again, when she’d taken Kurt to the school and gone to talk to Charles about Erik – the first time she’d been struck by how much time had passed, how much they’d grown. Changed.

“So they also still know that mutants saved them,” she pointed out.

Hank sighed and closed his eyes.

“Mutants are the solution, but they’re also the problem. We’re back to ten years ago.”

Yes, they were. And she knew the two of them weren’t the only ones to notice, but it seemed nobody else had any intention to do anything _concrete_ to fix things: Magneto seemed to have finally realized his ways were counterproductive, but his solution appeared to be playing chess with Charles every evening, and her brother… he _taught English Literature_ , for fuck’s sake!

“You still thinking about recreating the X-Men?” Her abrupt question made him open his eyes and give her a sharp look.

“We barely managed to rebuild Cerebro, we have no jet and no hangar either, but…” He sighed again. “Yes, I’m still thinking about that. And Charles still doesn’t think we need it.”

“What if we ask him together?”

She’d gone about it the wrong way, when she first came back: she’d expected to talk to an idealist, someone who wasn’t smart – or brave – enough to understand what needed to be done and had to be shown the truth by force. But she’d been wrong: Charles knew what was necessary, and was ready to do anything to protect the people around him. He didn’t want to endanger the kids, but was ready to fight on the frontline, if necessary – he’d proved it in Cairo, and again last night.

But what he didn’t see was that the kids weren’t kids anymore. And they needed to show him just that.

 

She and Hank had decided to start with the kids who had taken part in the events in Egypt – Charles hadn’t erased their memories of the telepathic message, out of respect for the role they’d played – and eventually move to some of the older students, if they showed any interest in it.

She realized how much of a hypocrite she was when she changed direction after seeing Jean and Scott with Kurt. She’d meant to speak to the newly dating couple about the X-Men project, but the sight of her s… of the blue kid had stopped her in her tracks. She didn’t want to endanger him. So sue her – she might have been a… _a horrible mother_ , she firmly thought the words, but if she could try and protect him now, she guessed better late than never, right? So she just spun on her heels and exited the building, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

She found Ororo under a tree, reading something for one of her classes. The white-haired girl listened in rapt attention while Raven talked to her; the hero-worship was still clear in the her eyes.

“It’s gonna be tough, and frustrating, and dangerous,” Mystique emphasized. “And people aren’t even gonna thank you in the end.”

“But it will be the right thing to do,” the girl concluded. “I have already chosen the wrong thing once. I will not do it again.”

Peter was avoiding her, probably in fear that she would try to convince him to talk to Erik again. She sent Hank to talk to the speedster, and by the end of the day they had two members for their new team.

Scott didn’t even need to be told about the risks: he only said “Alex said yes,” and that settled it. Jean sighed, closing her eyes, and her young face looked ancient.

“I am scared. I’ve always been scared,” she said. Raven reached out to comfort her, reassure her that no-one would judge her if she didn’t want to take part in it. But the girl reopened her eyes and focused them into those of the shapeshifter. “I don’t wanna be scared anymore.”

 

(X)

 

Erik had refrained from addressing the events of a few nights back with Charles, aware of the shift that had occurred on his perceptions of his friend, and yet unable to process how he felt about that: he’d always accused Charles of being naïve, spat in his face what a coward he was – and yet, now that he’d seen how far the Professor was actually ready to push himself for their people, he found himself at a loss. Some part of him wanted to resent his friend for claiming a moral high ground that he clearly didn’t have – or did he? He’d only done what he’d had to in order to fix something that was ultimately Erik’s fault – but mostly he was in awe: of Charles’ astounding power, of his ability to bend his own rules – and Erik _knew_ how stubborn they both were, and how hard it was for them to concede defeat and do something against their beliefs.

He realized he’d underestimated his friend. Now he just had to reconcile the image of his friend in his mind with reality.

In the meantime, he was glad Charles didn’t mention the swirling doubts he surely knew crowded his friend’s mind; their conversations during chess were still focused on the school, some political debates, even literature. They even recalled some happy memory they’d lived at the mansion before Cuba.

 

When the group of kids entered the library, Charles frowned at them.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, putting down the bishop he’d intended to use. Erik could see the teacher worried about his students, but if he knew his friend there was just a smidgen of apprehension about the conversation that was about to happen: whatever it was they wanted to discuss, he wasn’t gonna like it.

For his part, Magneto was just curious; especially when Mystique and Beast entered behind the four kids and closed the door after themselves. The woman looked at her brother in the eye as she introduced the new X-Men. There seemed to be something else behind those simple words, some history Erik wasn’t privy to, but what was clear to him was that the new team looked even less believable than the first one had been. Dressed in jeans and colored t-shirts – Ororo was wearing a _flowered dress_ , for God’s sake – the four kids looked hardly the fearless soldiers he’d seen in Cairo. They looked like the children they were. And he knew Charles was seeing the same thing, because his look turned sharply onto his sister.

“Raven, may I have a word with you? With _just_ you,” he unnecessarily stressed.

The young Summers, though, took a step forward.

“With all due respect, sir, we are not leaving.” Erik raised an eyebrow, impressed at the kid’s guts. “We are here because we believe in what Mystique proposed to us. We fought with you in Egypt, we _won_. But one battle won’t be enough.”

“We are mutants,” his girlfriend went on. “We have a gift, and we can use it for the good.”

The Professor ran a hand through his slowly regrowing hair, sighing heavily.

“This isn’t a game…”

“No, it isn’t,” Peter interrupted. “And we’re not kids anymore, not after Apocalypse. We can’t just go back to hiding.” His gaze briefly met Erik’s, but it returned to the teacher too fast to be interpreted.

“You may be older than the others, but…”

“It is not a matter of age. En Sabah Nur felt my rage and reached out to me. Others will be in need of a hand, and we can be that hand,” Ororo echoed.

“People fear us, Charles,” Mystique stepped in. “We need to be ready to protect ourselves. And we need to protect humans too, in case what happened in Cairo – or in Washington – happens again.” Her expression softened. “You know that too.”

Charles closed his eyes, hands clenching and unclenching on the arms of his chair. When he looked back up, it was to direct a silent plea to Erik. Magneto shook his head. “You know my point of view. It hasn’t changed.”

_They’re just kids!_ Charles didn’t need to telepathically project his thoughts to express what he was thinking, but Raven knew there was no point in repeating what had already been said.

“We can and will hope for the best, but it’s stupid to not prepare for the worst, Charles.”

Hank’s words sealed the Professor’s capitulation.

 

While he usually spent his evenings with Charles in the library, Erik liked to use his days to either help a grudgingly grateful Hank set up the basement or take a walk around the grounds. Memories from twenty years before assaulted him in the familiar surroundings, intertwining with the more recent pain for his girls, and he gladly welcomed the anguish he knew he deserved. If he closed his eyes, in the silence of the trees, he could almost feel the beloved weight of Magda and Nina in his arms, could feel their last breath leave their bodies; the blood on the metal pendant he’d used to avenge them – but revenge couldn’t give them back to him.

He watched the scene replay on the back of his eyelids, and missed them every day a little more.

That night, though, he found Raven standing by the lake in the seemingly endless Xavier property.

“I learnt how to swim in here,” she told him without turning toward him.

Erik rolled his eyes. She was usually a very straightforward person when it came to giving lectures and discussing unpleasant matters, but sometimes she seemed to think she needed to test the waters first with him – a habit she surely had taken from her brother. Somehow, the thought amused him.

“What do you want, Mystique?” he asked, direct.

She gracefully spun around and looked up at him.

“Are you gonna stay?”

Erik scoffed.

“You know I’m not.”

“And still, it’s been a month, the school had been rebuilt – and you’re still here.”

This conversation felt already too similar to the weird one he’d had with Hank not long before. It irked him.

“Do you want me gone too?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You know I don’t”, the woman shook her head. “But I need to know your intentions. Especially now, with the X-Men.”

“Ah, the X-Men.” His voice turned mocking, because Magneto didn’t like being called out on his shortcomings and always struck back when he felt exposed. “Nice speech, that was. Smart. Well-acted. Did you all rehearse it among yourselves before your performance in the library?”

Mystique’s expression hardened. Her fists clenched, her entire posture changed.

“You said you agreed with us.”

“And I do. They might’ve been kids a month ago, but they made a decision when they set foot in Cairo and fought Nur. But do _you_?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Of course I agree, I pushed for it, I…”

Magneto shook his head. “You prattle about doing what needs to be done, about being allowed to grow up and take decisions,” he hissed, “and still you took the chance to do just that away from _him_.”

Raven took a step back as if she’d been slapped. There was no point in pretending she didn’t know who the _him_ was.

“You and Azazel were part of my team, _Mystique_ ,” Erik spat out the name like an insult, “you can’t possibly think I wouldn’t notice.”

“Stay out of this, Erik. It’s none of your business.” But her voice trembled, her rage had shifted into something else.

He wasn’t done, though; not there, among the trees, with the pain of losing his Nina still fresh – _it would never go away, never go away, never go away…_

“You are a mother, Raven. And your son is alive. Take on your responsibilities, act like the adult you’re supposed to be.”

“That’s what I’m doing! I’m trying to protect him!”

“By preventing him from being what he is meant to be? By hiding what you are from him?”

The woman held her breath, and for a moment Erik thought she would slap him. She didn’t though; just turned around and disappeared towards the mansion, leaving him behind, alone with his rage and his grief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Charles is supposed to be bald – he’s my favourite character, I should know XD Problem is McAvoy is so fucking hot with hair I needed to have it back. No, I don’t care how shallow that makes me, I was very very VERY disappointed when the transference made all his hair fall in the movie (even though I was expecting it to happen since First Class) and decided to have it back for my fic. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> Another thing I feel that needs an explanation is my use of povs: in this fic, I chose to follow the stories of Raven and Erik – my povs and protagonists – and only write the other characters in relation to them. That’s why some of the others’ decisions and actions aren’t as deeply delved into, while some others take the frontlines. I love the relationships Raven and Erik establish among themselves and with the others, especially with Charles, and I wanted to analyze all of these interactions from their point of view. I hope my intentions are clear – and that you like what I did :)
> 
> Finally, there’s a deleted scene (WHICH IS AWESOME AND I’M HATING SINGER FOR DELETING IT) in which Charles asks Raven to stay at the school, and seems to realize on his own that “this place needs to be more than a school”, thus finally embracing the idea of the X-Men. As I said in the opening notes to this fic, though, I’d already finished the whole story by the time the digital edition with all its special contents was distributed, and I should have rewritten too much of it to fit all the additional information; I hope my version works for you :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I’m blown by the response this fic is getting :D A huge heartfelt thank you to Lilynette, Nemhaine42 and Eii that reviewed, and to all of those who left kudos and bookmarked my story. I love you all!
> 
> And the biggest thank you of all, as always, goes to my beautiful friend and beta-reader Enrica. Because she’s special *hearts*

If there was one bright side to their conversation, it was that Raven was now fairly certain about what Erik’s reaction to Peter’s revelation would be. Granted, she couldn’t be exactly _sure_ , but she now had hope.

She was aware her interest in the young Maximoff and his father was nothing more than a way to distract herself from Erik’s words, but she firmly refused to go back on the decision she’d taken seventeen years before. It wasn’t like she was _proud_ of it; but she was smart enough to realize there had been no other choice, no matter how the separation had hurt her – or her son.

There was still hope for Erik and his children, though; they could still be a family.

“Should we do more?” she wondered aloud as she watched the kids experiment their powers in turns in the bunker when Alex had used to train himself: they’d renamed it Danger Room, and Raven had felt twenty-four again, when she and the other special kids had spent a carefree evening showing off to each other and giving themselves silly names. After so many years, she realized that had been the moment everything had changed, long before Cuba: the moment they’d lost two of their own and realized there would be no way to be kids anymore, for them.

“We will gradually increase the difficulty of their training, but for now I’d like to test what they can do so I can plan a proper training,” Hank answered, misinterpreting her question. She didn’t immediately correct his assumption, but when Peter’s turn came she asked again.

Hank blinked at her, feeling out of his depth.

“We could… talk to Erik?”

Mystique laughed.

“So he can Darth Vader it to Peter?” When the only answer she got was a blank stare, she added, “Never mind,” and the other just elaborated further.

“Maybe not everything. Just… try to understand what he would do if he knew” he suggested. “Peter hasn’t told him yet because he’s clearly afraid of his reaction. And he’s not wrong: Erik is unpredictable – and not in a good way. It would help if he knew what to expect.”

Raven chewed her lip, wondering how much she could share with her friend.

“I think he would be happy,” she finally said.

That got Hank’s full attention.

“And you know this how?”

“He gave me a speech about parents and responsibilities.”

Silence met her words, and the woman knew he had understood all the implications. They quietly watched Ororo take Peter’s turn in the simulation room and create a small storm.

“Well, then maybe Peter needs to know that,” he concluded like no deviation had occurred in their chat.

 

A couple of days later, when she had all but forgotten about her conversation with Erik – or at least had pushed it as far in the back of her mind as she could – she found a melancholic Charles alone in his office, and she entered to ask him if everything was alright. Surely it wasn’t about the X-Men, right?

“Erik is leaving soon,” he only said.

Damn it. It wasn’t what she had been aiming at.

“I’ll talk to him,” she said and made to leave again, but her brother stopped her.

“We all knew he wouldn’t stay,” he shook his head.

_Yes, but he would’ve stayed longer if I hadn’t cornered him like that._

She thought about Peter, about his lost occasions. About the father that would never know of his children – and her mind went to the son who would never know about his mother. She briefly closed her eyes and when she reopened them she found Charles intently staring at her.

“What?” she defensively asked. Had he read her mind? Was he reading it now?

The man gave her a sad look.

“Why don’t you trust me, Raven?” he asked softly, and his words hurt her deeply.

“What are you talking about?” she snapped, because a hurt Mystique was an angry Mystique.

_You still sound just like him, you sound just like Erik._

Charles sighed; it was a deep, heavy sound that spoke of tiredness and a sorrow so profound she wanted to reach out and embrace him and never let go.

She did nothing of the sort, though.

“You asked me to not read your mind, and I haven’t broken my promise. And still, you turn angry every time I look at you. Why don’t you trust me?”

_Because I have secrets._

But Hank and Erik had found out even without telepathy. And her brother, who still knew her better than anyone else, surely had as well.

She exhaled a breath that somehow took all her energy away, and then collapsed into a chair before his desk.

“I need to talk to you.”

 

When Erik had been arrested for Kennedy’s murder, the Brotherhood had dismantled; they’d never been a cohesive group, and after losing their leader they had just gravitated away from each other. She’d lost any contact with Janos and Angel – it hadn’t been until much later that she’d learned her teammate died – while she and Azazel had decided that leaving America for the moment would be best.

Alone and on the run in a continent that was so similar to America and yet so different in many ways, they had found themselves becoming closer. Azazel’s red skin couldn’t change to his liking, which had made her a key player in finding shelter and food for the both of them; while much older than her and in some ways even more oppressively protective than her brother, the man had allowed her a freedom that she’d never had before. It was exciting, stimulating. And frightening, because for the first time another person’s life had depended on her.

When he had been captured by Trask’s men searching for test subject to experiment on, everything had changed; she’d just discovered she was pregnant, and now she found herself alone in a foreign country with a child she didn’t know how to raise. She’d had no money, and the closer her due date had gotten the harder it had become for her to maintain the concentration to hide what she was. In nine months, she’d ended up in a rickety shack in the German woods, alone and crying her eyes out, begging for the pain of the labour to end soon and take her.

She had given birth to their son on the filthy floor, and as she’d been marveling at his beauty – he was so tiny and perfect, her blue, three-fingered and pointy-tailed baby – she’d realized she would never be able to protect him.

She had left her brother because she was tired of hiding; she’d embraced Magneto’s war to make a better world where mutants wouldn’t be forced to mask what they were; but it wasn’t until she’d lived with a mutant that didn’t have the luxury of her shapeshifting powers that she’d really understood: Charles’ words and Magnetos’ violence alone could maybe change things in the long run, but now, in the present, children like her son would suffer because of what they looked like, and neither of the two powerful mutants’ ways could help them.

She’d cried herself to sleep, clutching her baby to her heart, and she’d dreamt of the big house she had left behind and the safety it represented. And, for the first time since she had left Cuba, she had realized she couldn’t just go back. It hadn’t been an aware thought, but she had now been able to see she’d subconsciously been comforted so far by the knowledge that she could return home any time she wanted, and find her brother smiling and welcoming her back with open arms.

It had taken the loss of her lover and the birth of their son to understand how childish that had been. She didn’t have a home. And while she knew Charles would certainly forgive her anything, she just couldn’t do that to him: some betrayals couldn’t be forgotten, and it wasn’t fair to expect otherwise; she had no right to ask for a second chance she would surely get. It was time for her to be the adult she had claimed to be for years.

And an adult was someone who did the right thing even when it hurt them.

 

“I left him with a family of circus performers, where he could be raised without hiding what he was. I thought… I thought he would be happy. But then something happened, and when I found him he had been captured by a man that arranged cage battles between mutants.” The bones in her clenched fists creaked with the force of her rage.

Charles had wheeled around the desk to sit closer to her while she spoke, and now reached out to gently pry her hands open and hold them in his. He had unshed tears in his eyes when he said, “You should have come to me. I would have helped you two.” He kissed her fingers, staring into her soul. “I would have protected you two,” he whispered.

She gave him a sad smile, freeing one of her hands to caress his wet cheek.

“And that’s why I couldn’t come. I couldn’t ask that of you after you had already done so much for me.” Charles shook his head, but she pressed a light finger to his lips to prevent him from speaking. “He grew up in a loving family, one that gave him everything you gave me.”

“I didn’t protect you.”

“You couldn’t protect me forever, Charles,” she softly replied, and found out she wasn’t mad at him anymore. And then her eyes fell onto his chair, and a shadow dulled them. “I left you when you needed me the most. I am…” _sorry_ , she wanted to say, but did she deserve to unburden herself like that?

Her brother’s kind smile widened as if she’d said something beautiful, though. His free hand covered hers where it still rested on his cheek.

She felt uncomfortable, undeserving of so much love, but she didn’t say anything so she wouldn’t hurt him anymore.

She took a deep breath remembering the reason she’d come to her brother in the first place; slipping her hands free again, she leaned back.

“I need your advice.”

“About Kurt? Or our other fatherless child?”

Raven started.

“How do you know?” Funny how her mind didn’t immediately answer _telepathy_.

“Ororo has quite a talent for eavesdropping, and heard you trying to convince Peter to speak to Erik. She then came to me for an advice and tried to make it pass as if _you_ had told her. I’m pretty sure she tried to convince Peter of it as well.”

Well, that explained some of his distrust. Raven was gonna have to speak to the girl, though the fact she had still tried to help a friend was nice.

“I think Erik would be… not happy, but not mad either,” she tentatively said.

Charles nodded, sighing heavily.

“The death of his family still pains him deeply – it probably will forever, just like the loss of his mother when he was but a child.” His gaze wandered beyond the closed windows of the office, where the kids could be seen going about their days unaware of the complexities of the adult life. “Nothing will ever erase it. No other child will ever take the place of Nina.” He looked back at her. “But there is much more love in a man than that for one child.”

 

(X)

 

He was back in the woods. Alone, this time.

Charles had been notified that afternoon of his decision to leave in a few days, and hadn’t looked surprised or upset in the slightest; of course, with him you could never be sure: he had so much self-control he’d often driven Erik mad. The only time he’d seen his friend truly lose it had been on the plane to Paris, ten years before, but it had been after a rather bleak period – and even then, it had just been one episode.

That lack of reaction had still caught Erik by surprise, though. Not even a suggestion that he delayed his leaving had come; instead, Charles had smiled and nodded, and just asked him to let somebody know if he needed anything before his departure. As if he were just going on a short trip and had to be packed a luggage and a few sandwiches.

Magneto snorted. It was so typical of the telepath: he refused to acknowledge things that were too painful no matter how real and present they were, and lived in the constant belief that sorrow would just pass. He’d done the same with Raven once, refusing to see how restless she’d grown, how much she had come to despise the forced safety of a life of hiding.

His hope for the future was just the same: a denial of reality. The X-Men themselves hadn’t been his idea; he’d opposed to it and had had to be presented with the _fait accompli_ in order to accept it.

And yet… Erik had finally dared to believe his friend’s way was possible. After Cairo, after Nur and all the destruction he’d caused aided by the ancient mutant’s power, he’d wanted to stop and try another path. He’d stayed much longer than he’d promised himself, and had come to even like the mansion’s slowly flowing time and the people inhabiting it, but the talk with Raven had reminded him of why he’d stayed away for so many years. Of why Magneto couldn’t just go back and erase his past: he was a known terrorist, and three times already he’d been the source of pain for his fellow mutants, causing the very thing he’d sworn to prevent. Hank’s open disdain wasn’t the only negative emotion directed at him; even Charles, for all his faith and hope, was never completely relaxed with him. Oh, he’d play chess and talk and even laugh with him, but Erik knew the telepath was ready to intervene if his friend even thought about endangering his school.

And it wasn’t like Erik could blame his friend. After all, he himself was used to suspicion: he’d grown up never trusting anyone before meeting Charles, and even then he’d donned a helmet to protect himself from his only friend – a friend who had only given him faith that he’d repaid with hurt. In his eyes, trust only brought pain.

It was time to leave, atone for his past mistakes and build a new future, without lies and false names; he’d been a frightened child on a lifelong revenge quest, the leader of a mismatched brigade, a terrorist on the run, a husband and father. But Magneto was nothing if not resourceful: he would find a new road to travel.

 

Among the distrust of the older students and the indifference of the younger ones, one kid’s reaction to seeing him stood out for its oddity: Peter Maximoff, the guy who had broken him out of prison ten years before, only had what looked like curiosity in his eyes when he met his gaze. Erik didn’t even know how to call it, but it’d been present since Cairo, since he and Raven had tried to talk the Horseman to fight by their side, and had continued for the whole month they’d been back to America. After he’d announced Charles his close departure, the kid’s attention had become more persistent and obvious; it made him uncomfortable.

When Erik confronted him about it, though, Peter flinched and denied everything, forced a laugh out and called him a crazy old man who was imagining things, all but running away immediately after.

The accident, somehow – he had a pretty good idea of the how, actually – came to the headmaster’s attention.

“I don’t appreciate you scaring the kids, Erik.”

Charles and he were playing chess again; some way to pretend one of them wasn’t gonna leave and the other wasn’t going to be left behind. Again.

“I only asked him what he wanted,” he answered, immediately understanding what the other was talking about.

“Yes, and we both know what _asking_ means in your vocabulary.” There was steel in Charles’ voice, though his manners remained friendly and unperturbed.

 “He stared at me.” It sounded far more childish aloud than he had meant.

The other gave a light chuckle.

“So you are the one who was scared?”

Magneto didn’t deem it necessary to verbally express how little he appreciated the jab.

The white rook was captured by a black bishop. Charles responded by moving his other rook to capture his opponent’s knight.

“I still have to ask you to refrain from speaking like that to one my students, in the future.”

“I’m leaving in a few days anyway,” the other replied.

The telepath leaned back, intertwining his fingers on his stomach, elbows on his armrests.

“And I would be grateful if you didn’t make me throw you out earlier than that.”

Erik raised an eyebrow. He relaxed against the cushions, crossing an ankle on the opposite knee, a smirk on his face.

“Mama Bear always protecting her cubs,” he commented, but the other didn’t react to the joke.

“Erik,” he only said.

“I’m not gonna hurt your precious students, Charles. I just asked the kid why he kept staring at me. If I came out too rude, well, he better get used to it, now that he’s an _X-Man_.” He said the name in a mocking tone, his eyes fixed into those of the other.

The Professor sighed, his expression softening.

“I have known you for twenty years, and you still are a conundrum to me,” he said, returning to the game. “But trust me, my friend: you don’t want to hurt _Peter_.”

 

His friend’s words replayed in his head for the next couple of days, but he wasn’t able to decipher their meaning: the kid had helped him ten years before, sure, and he was a good soldier and had played a crucial part in the battle against Nur; but why would he be any more special than his friends?

His weird looks hadn’t stopped, anyway, but they’d become more subtle, and there was an undercurrent of apprehension in them. To make everything more confusing, Raven has started giving Erik odd looks as well, and he’d caught her trying to talk to Peter more often than even the X-Men training sessions justified.

In the end, curiosity won out and he waited for Peter to return from some errand to corner him.

“I believe the two of us need to talk.”

The kid looked up at him startled, but then he sighed as if accepting there was no way out – or maybe understanding it was time to man up and _talk_.

They walked in silence for a while through the grounds before stopping among the trees; being older than most of the inhabitants of the school, Peter didn’t have classes to attend, and his only scheduled appointments were his training sessions with the rest of the team. As far as Erik knew, though, they had yet to be properly arranged and only consisted of a monitoring of the kids’ abilities, for now, which left the kid a fair amount of free time to do whatever he wanted.

“I was off to see my mother,” the kid said after a few minutes of silence. He was giving his back to Erik, looking uncomfortable. Not that Erik was feeling much more at ease.

_Damn you, Charles._

“She was worried, I hadn’t talked to her for a few days and she said my sister – my twin sister, ‘cause I have two, but the younger one is just happy to have my basement all to herself, now – had called and asked about me.”

God, did this kid just run off his mouth with no purpose at all aside hearing his own voice?

“My mom’s name is Marya.” But that last sentence was different: Peter had turned towards Erik, and for the first time had looked him in the eye. “Marya Maximoff.”

He said the name as if it should mean something to him. Magneto raised an eyebrow, questioning.

“But I guess when you met her she wasn’t married yet, so you wouldn’t know her by that name.”

And it dawned on him.

 

(X)

 

They say talking helps, and in a way it was true: finally telling her story to her brother had given them a peace that had been painfully missing for two decades, allowing them to finally work to get back the profound friendship they’d shared as children. But it hadn’t been the fix-it she had hoped for. She was still hiding her identity from Kurt, and hadn’t managed to convince Peter to talk to Erik – _yet_ , she hoped.

More importantly, Charles hadn’t provided her the magical solution she’d secretly been waiting for, and that had upset her more than anything else: day after day, she realized the child that had been welcomed in the Xavier family almost forty years before had never really disappeared, and for all her throwing his mistakes at him, she still expected Charles to come out with a smile and an open hand – and the perfect answer to all her ailments.

Still, it _had_ helped, and evening after evening she found herself walking down the corridor of the mansion by Charles’ side, toward the elevator that would take them to the basement. With his help, they would create and guide the team, providing the world with the help they needed, the good face of mutants to counterbalance the dangerous one – they resolutely avoided voicing aloud who the latter would probably be.

 

“I told him.” Peter wasn’t one for subtlety: he either blatantly avoided a topic or tackled it as bluntly as possible, probably to prevent himself from chickening out.

There was no need for clarifications, though. Raven raised her eyebrows, her yellow eyes boring into the kid’s.

“And?” She put down the coffee she’d been preparing for breakfast and turned towards him. That soon in the morning, they were the only ones in the kitchen.

“ _And_ he turned his back and left.” He shrugged, but it was clear he was hurt.

Mystique would have given anything to momentarily swap her powers with her brother and read what was going on in Erik’s mind. She had no doubt he wasn’t mad at the boy – the fact the kid was still breathing was proof enough – but while she could understand it was a rather huge discovery and he was entitled to a moment of confusion, she wished he had been less _rude_ in his reaction.

“It could have gone worse, though,” the kid went on, forcefully keeping a casual tone as if what had happened hadn’t touched him at all. _So similar to Erik._

Raven shook her head, but didn’t comment.

“Are you gonna tell your sister?”

Peter recoiled a bit.

“No.” He approached the cupboard and took out the box of Cheerios, which he proceeded to eat in handfuls with no bowl of milk or spoon. “There’s nothing to tell.”

She thought she could sense a _yet_ at the end of the sentence, but she had no way of knowing if it was just her hope trying to find something to take hold of.

“She’ll be mad if you keep it from her,” she ventured.

The boy didn’t seem perturbed.

“There’s nothing to get mad about. I just didn’t find what I was looking for.”

Raven realized the poor girl had been fed a completely different version of what had happened by her brother. She wanted to protest – what was it with brothers and needlessly protecting their sisters? – but she realized she didn’t really knew the kid enough to give him a lecture.

“What does she think you’re still doing here, then??”

“Searching for Erik,” he promptly answered, mouth full of half chewed cereals. “I told you she wasn’t so sure about this entire affair anyway. He’s a terrorist, not our father. Our father is dead.”

He closed again the box and clapped his hands twice to get rid of the crumbles before exiting the kitchen.

 

She didn’t have the time to muse too much about Peter’s situation, because that afternoon Moira came back to talk to Charles. Both Hank and she took part in the meeting, but not Erik – he seemed to have vanished after his confrontation with his newfound son, though Charles didn’t seem too concerned.

“The committee wants to talk with the mutants that helped me,” the woman begun, taking a seat before the Professor’s desk. “They didn’t mention your telepathic message, so I managed to keep your role in the matter strictly as heroes.”

 _Heroes_. Raven had been called that already, and she’d found the name too tight and suffocating, but knowing she’d gotten to do something good with her friends – her family – somehow made it more bearable. Righter.

She also noticed that Moira’s memory hadn’t been manipulated like that of everybody else’s; she suspected it had been her brother’s way to apologize for what he’d done after Cuba.

“Do they know who we are?” Hank asked.

“Stryker was _outraged_ ,” her tone turned mocking, “that I didn’t mention any of your names, and was clearly itching to tell everything, but in the end he realized there was no way to unmask the school without revealing himself. He’s still in Canada, too scared to come back, I think. And he has a right to.”

“So your previsions were correct,” the shapeshifter smirked.

Moira responded in kind. It was short-lived, though. With a deep breath she resumed talking.

“I think you are safe, for the moment. But I don’t think it’s gonna last long; either Stryker will talk, or someone else in the end will connect the dots. We can discuss matters as much as we want among us, but it’s _you_ they want to talk to.” She said, and it was clear she wasn’t talking just about her bosses anymore.

“Do you have anything in mind yet?” Charles calmly asked.

“I do,” the woman asked, and she turned towards Mystique.

Even before she started explaining, Raven was sure she wasn’t gonna like it.

 

(X)

 

He remembered Marya. He hadn’t been one to sleep around, too focused on his mission to allow himself such distractions, but he’d had his fair share of conquests; the memory of her, though, stood clear among all the others in his mind, a beacon of light in a night of weariness and frustration, of silly humans thinking they could mess with him. Of loneliness and gratitude.

He hadn’t thought about her again in years – would have never thought about her again if it hadn’t been for Peter. And his sister, it seemed?

He buried his head in his hand, his fingers tightening in his hair. He had two children he didn’t know anything about. And they weren’t children, either. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t just turn his back to them – but he couldn’t pretend to be a father, either.

He felt… dirty. As if somehow he was betraying his Nina – his sweet little girl, who hadn’t been allowed to reach that same age, who had been killed miles away from there, all because of him.

How could he be a father again, after that?

And _how dare_ that kid tell him that, as if he had any right to ask Erik to go on with his life like Poland had never happened?

 

“Why did you tell me that?”

Peter sat under a tree, headphones on his head and eyes closed, but he looked up at him when he approached. Magneto’s mere presence was enough to make the kids around them change course, ensuring him as much privacy as he needed for his chat with the speedster – some of them sent him dirty looks from afar, but most were too scared to even consider approaching the same lawn where he stood, which Erik was sure would earn him another lecture from Charles.

“Because it’s the truth,” the kid simply stated lowering the headphones to hear him better, but didn’t look up at him.

“And you always say the truth?” Erik sneered. “What were you hoping to obtain, uh? A _Dad_?” he spat the word like it tasted foul. He was undeserving of that title, and nobody had the right to call him that after Nina.

“I already had a Dad,” the kid replied through his teeth.

“Then what?”

“You slept with my Mom. You had a right to know that had consequences and I had a right to know what your reaction would be.” He shrugged. “That’s all. Now we can both go on pretending we never met each other.”

The kid closed his eyes, headphones back onto his ears, and turned up the volume of his walkman. Magneto clenched his hands before throwing the device away with a push of his powers. Peter scowled.

And still, Erik wasn’t angry. He knew he was supposed to, but he just couldn’t muster enough irritation. He was more… curious. God help him, he wanted to know more, he wanted to talk to that kid claiming to be _his son_ , meet his sister…

_My little Nina, I’m so sorry._

He didn’t have any right, and yet his expression softened, his hands relaxed.

“I met her when I was still looking for the man who had massacred my family,” he found himself saying. He didn’t look at Peter, instead allowed his eyes to wander through the grounds around them, the building towering above the trees. “She was a waitress in a bar and I was tired after another fruitless day. I just… itched for a fight, and some men were harassing her.”

“So you saved her,” the kid scoffed.

Erik shook his head. “No, I was looking for somewhere to vent my frustration and those men were just an easy target for my powers.” He never claimed to be a noble man. “She was grateful.” _Or afraid._ “We… well, you know.”

“She slept with you because she thought you gave a damn,” Peter surmised. “And then you left.”

“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” he felt the need to justify himself.

“Would it have changed anything?”

He didn’t know, so he didn’t answer. The kid didn’t insist.

“I had a daughter and a wife,” he said instead.

“I know.”

“I loved them.”

“I know.” Their eyes met for the first time. “Mom didn’t expect you to stay,” Peter said after a pause, as if to absolve him. Why he felt any need to was beyond Erik.

They stood in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts, the grounds around them slowly emptying as the students went back inside for dinner.

The grass was already bathed in the red of the sunset when the quiet was finally broken.

“I can’t be your father.”

“I already had a father.” But unlike before, his tone wasn’t cold.

 

He was still reeling from the weird conversation he’d had with Peter – his _son_ – when he saw Raven stomping out of Charles’ office, her face grim. She sent him an unwarranted irritated look before just exiting the school without a word. Curiosity compelled him to push open the doors to the room, drawing the looks of the remaining occupants.

“Agent MacTaggert,” he greeted with a slight nod. She responded in kind, but his gaze had already moved past her to the man behind the desk.

“I saw Mystique leaving. She looked… annoyed.”

“That is putting it mild,” Charles grimaced. “But she will come around,” he dismissed.

Erik wasn’t so sure, but after all he didn’t even know what the matter was. He tried to convey his confusion to his friend, but was prevented from asking by Moira, who stood up and awkwardly adjusted her suit and hair. Hank seemed to catch some hidden meaning behind the gesture, because he motioned for Erik to follow him outside and closed the door behind them.

“So they making peace?” Lehnsherr asked with raised eyebrows.

The Beast uncomfortably pushed the glasses up on his nose – Erik wondered if he actually needed glasses even in his animal form or if he was just too used to having them – and shifted from one foot to the other, clearly embarrassed by the personal question about his friend and employer.

“I guess?” he answered in an uncertain tone.

Erik shook his head, amused. But then he thought back to the chat he’d just had and his mood changed again.

“You knew about Peter?” he asked.

Hank started, taken aback by the abrupt topic shift.

“Knew what?” he tried to stall. Magneto looked straight at him, and though clearly bigger and physically stronger, the other lowered his head like a chastised kid. “So he finally told you. Good.”

“So that’s a yes.”

Hank sighed. “He came to the school right after seeing the news about what happened in Poland because he wanted the Professor’s help to find you. But he was too late.”

That took Erik by surprise: Peter had avoided him for days, limiting himself to watch from afar, before he’d finally been forced to admit what he wanted.

“He was too afraid to tell you,” Hank answered reading the question in his expression.

Well, damn.

“I’m assuming you didn’t, like… _kill him_ or something. Right?” The awkward tone did little to mask the danger the gentle doctor was capable of.

“Of course not,” Erik rolled his eyes.

The relieved sigh was completely unexpected.

“Well, I’m glad. With any luck that will help Raven do her part as well.”

The older man looked at him, and realized for the first time how much Hank had grown and changed in all those years. “Did she tell you?” But he knew she hadn’t: Beast, just like him, had noticed the similarities between the two blue mutants.

A shaken head confirmed his suspect.

“As far as I know she hasn’t told anyone – though I sincerely hope she has told at least Charles. I think she was waiting for Peter to finally talk to you to find the courage herself. Let’s hope she makes the right decision.”

Erik didn’t comment, but he made a decision too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In DOFP, Erik mentions Angel being dead, but doesn’t say anything about Riptide; IMHO, Singer wanted the whole Brotherhood dead, aside Erik and Raven, but forgot about poor Janos XD yet, I decided to take the conversation on the plane at face value, and am now imagining Janos on a Caribbean beach sipping cocktails not giving a shit about mutants in the rest of the world.  
> Also in DOFP, we see Stryker’s eyes flashing yellow after he recovers Logan from the bottom of the river. Again, Singer clearly forgot about it – since we have the real Stryker having Wolverine in the Alkali base in XMA and no explanation for it – so I decided to forget as well. Singer needs someone to remind him what he did in the previous movies before he writes a new one XD


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are: the final chapter of my first X-Men fanfiction.  
> My sincerest thank you to everyone who read the fourth chapter, especially to Nemhaine42 that reviewed, and to everybody who kudos-ed and bookmarked.
> 
> And as usual, all of my love goes to Enrica, one of the most perfect human being on Earth. I love you, my friend *hearts*

Mystique was mad. Moira had no right to ask that of her, to put that huge weight solely on her shoulders, to expect her to just say yes; the agent had no idea what it had felt like for her to be forced to go back to hiding her true self – after finally coming to accept her skin – just because other people looked at her blue face with so many expectations. She didn’t want to be looked at like that: she didn’t deserve it. The only reason she hadn’t killed Trask in Washington had been Charles – or maybe just cowardice. She was no hero. She didn’t want to be a hero.

And now Moira came and asked her to wear that face again, the face of the savior.

She knew Charles and Hank were aware of how she felt – at the very least because she’d _told_ them – and yet in their eyes there had been hope, faith. She’d stridden out of the room in anger like a little girl throwing a tantrum, half relieved, half upset that nobody had tried to stop her, thus preventing her from venting her frustration.

She knew she was being unreasonable – Moira’s plan was logic, Raven _knew_ it, but that didn’t stop her from being mad at the CIA agent, and at her friends as well.

She turned into a non-descript middle-aged woman and exited the gates, wandered through the neighborhood, blended into the crowd on the sidewalks. And realized how pointless – and childish – her leaving had been.

When she returned to the school, it was late and she’d missed the evening training session, so she made to climb the stairs and go to her room, but a shadow detaching from the wall startled her into combat mode. It took her a full minute to realize it was no enemy.

“Kurt?” His dark skin and hair had allowed him to perfectly blend into the shadows of the sleeping mansion, but when he came into the light of the moon filtering through the windows his eyes shone bright.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized in his thick German accent. She wanted to retort that it took far more for Mystique to be scared, but his contrite tone made him look so young and innocent she refrained from commenting.

“Did you want anything?” she asked regaining her composure.

“Did I do something wrong?”

The question caught her off guard. She tried to remember if she’d reprimanded him for anything, but couldn’t remember many interactions with her son in the last few days. Maybe it wasn’t about her? But she couldn’t think how the kid, who was always so kind, always so polite, could have angered anyone.

“Wrong how?”

“In Cairo. I know I missed the final battle, but I thought I had done my part well enough. And I can do better, anyway.”

Shit, now she understood what this was about. Had his friends talked? She’d been clear that the X-Men were to be kept a secret from _anyone_ who wasn’t part of the team, but maybe she’d underestimated teenagers’ instinct to show off.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong.” She slowly answered, her mind frantically searching for a way to change the subject before Kurt said what she knew he would.

“Then why wasn’t I asked to join the team? I would have said yes. I want to say yes. I want to fight.”

_Hell no._

“There was no need. The team works the way it is; there was no need to distract you from your study and your new life.” She was brutal, more than necessary, maybe – but she didn’t care; all she wanted was for him to be _safe_. She ignored the way the kid took a step back, clearly hurt. “And tell your friends I expect more maturity from them: they’re soldiers, and if they can’t follow a simple order they’ll be out.”

She made to turn around and take the stairs, but his voice stopped her. “It wasn’t them who told me. It was Mister Magneto.”

 

In hindsight it hadn’t been that great an idea. After changing into her blue form as she took the steps three at a time, she ran to the teachers’ wing of the mansion, where Erik’s temporary room had been set; she slammed the door open in anger. Magneto jerked up in bed, his powers already gathering the metal in the room to throw it at the invader, who dodged the attack with practiced ease and jumped on the mattress with feline grace.

“I told you to stay out of it,” Raven’s cold voice hissed.

Erik exhaled an annoyed breath as his adrenaline went down recognizing his former teammate.

“Raven, hello to you too,” he said leaning against the headboard, his arms crossed on his chest, a nonplussed expression on his face.

“I told you,” the woman repeated, each word cold and biting, “to stay _out_ of it.”

“Like you stayed out of my family’s matters?” he replied just as coldly.

She winced, sitting back on her haunches, but her yellow gaze remained fixed in his.

“I just wanted to help.”

Erik snorted a bitter laugh.

“Help him? Or yourself?” She finally looked away, unable to sustain the accuse she knew that was true.

“He wanted to tell you.”

The man sighed, his gaze wandering as well, all anger vanishing.

He sighed. “I’m glad he did. And you should tell your kid as well.” He paused, waiting for her to look back at him. “You should also let him join the team. It’s his right. You’re acting just like your brother did when you were younger, and you hated that.”

It was true, she had hated that. But she hadn’t been a mother then – as much awful as she was as a mother – and she hadn’t understood what instinct had driven Charles’ words and actions toward her; she hadn’t understood because she had never had anyone depending on her. Hell, the first thing she’d done as soon as she had managed to get up after childbirth had been finding someone to take care of the baby, because she just _couldn’t_. Not alone, not that far from the only home she had known, not with the life she led. Taking Kurt to America had been the first time she’d acted like the mother she should have been, and keeping him away from the X-Men was the only way to ensure he would actually stay safe. Troubles would find mutants anyway; there was no need to search for more.

“I want to protect him,” her voice broke, and she closed her mouth before more words could come out and betray her fake self-control. Because Mystique didn’t cry. After a deep breath that did nothing to really calm her down, she resumed, “He can have a life, here.”

“ _Hidden_.”

Like she had been for years.

“Safe,” she replied.

She was a fucking hypocrite.

“He’s a mutant; he’ll never be truly safe.”

She was grateful he hadn’t called her out on her double standards, but what he chose to say was just as true. She closed her eyes briefly, breathing slowly, her head tilted back.

“I don’t know how to be a mother,” she whispered to the ceiling

“Nobody knows how to be a parent. Believe me,” Erik shook his head, his voice heavy with sadness and regret. “But he has a right to know and choose his path.”

A tear slid down Mystique’s blue cheek.

 

Neither Charles nor Hank commented on Kurt’s presence to the next day’s training. His friends, on the other hand, were happy to have him on their team, and congratulated him as if becoming a soldier at seventeen was some kind of great accomplishment. Charles gave her a sad look, and she shook her head, trying to dislodge the treacherous thought from her head: they were young, yes, but they were mutants and they’d already fought and won. They weren’t kids, she told herself, feeling sicker and sicker. She was so glad her brother hadn’t _I-told-you-so_ ed her.

It was the first time he attended an actual training session, and Hank was explaining to him what they had done up to that moment, all the individual tests and results. Charles raptly listened, chiming in with a few ideas once in a while, while Raven prepared the room for monitoring Kurt’s skills.

Closer to the control panel, Ororo was asking Peter if he’d talked to Magneto, and Raven did her best to not look like she was eavesdropping.

“I guess it went better than I feared.”

The girl smiled softly, and for once her badass attitude gave way to the gentle seventeen-year-old she had been forced to hide in order to survive her harsh life in Egypt.

“So he was glad, yes?” she asked.

“Well, I wouldn’t say _glad_ , exactly,” he grimaced, pretending he didn’t care so much. “But hey, I came out of our chat with no metal blades through my stomach, so I’d call it a success, you know?”

The girl chuckled. Raven sighed, adjusting the settings on the machine and raising the screens that would separate the monitoring cabin from the rest of the room.

“Nightcrawler, get ready,” she ordered through the microphone.

The other kids settled along the walls, giving their teammate a clear field to operate.

His time with the circus had honed his acrobatic skills, giving him a grace and effortlessness nobody else on the team could claim, and whatever had happened to him that had led him to the cage fight in East Berlin had taught him to teleport with readiness and precision. Raven found herself clench her fists in anger – anger at life, at the Munich circus that hadn’t been able to protect her son, but mostly at herself – and she felt a gentle brush against her mind that she recognized as her brother’s telepathic touch.

She breathed deeply, relaxing her hands, becoming the imperturbable Mystique again. Her brother’s soft caress didn’t vanish, though.

 

(X)

 

“Of course you already knew.”

Talking with a telepath had one big benefit: there was no need to give the context, you could just plunge into a topic as soon as it crossed your mind, with no preamble.

Of course, if said telepath had promised to never read another’s mind without permission it made matters a little harder, but Charles was perceptive enough even without his powers.

“He didn’t tell me, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

They were, again, playing chess; aside their liking for the game, it seemed the best setting for their chats, anyway. Erik’s mind wasn’t on the board, though, and Charles growing crowd of conquered  opposite pieces was testimony to that. Neither seemed to mind, though: they would just start another game after this one was over.

“And you didn’t snoop around in his head either.”

The telepath sighed in good-natured exasperation.

“One day you will trust me,” he shook his head, but didn’t seem upset.

“What do you think of it?”

“There’s not much to think,” was the only reply.

Magneto huffed. “I have _a son_. And a daughter, it seems.” He resolutely didn’t think of Nina.

“That’s a common consequence when a man and a woman _meet_ ,” Charles teased him, and despite himself Erik laughed out loud.

“Professor, I’m shocked.” He brought a hand to his chest in mock scandal. The humour left the conversation after a couple of turns of the game, though. “What should I do?” He couldn’t mask his uncertainty as much as he wished.

“Are you asking for my advice, my friend?” Charles didn’t raise his gaze from the board, feigning a casualness that was all for his friend’s comfort.

“You want me to say it out loud?”

A sigh was his answer; the Professor moved his queen and leaned back, his fingers lacing onto his stomach.

“I cannot tell you what to do, Erik.” His blue eyes bore holes into the other’s. “Nor can Peter. What do _you_ want to do?”

“I’m not his father,” was the prompt and curt reply.

“And yet you _are_ ,” his friend stressed. “And Peter felt you had a right to know that. Now the ball is in your court. What are you going to do?”

Erik resisted the impulse to rudely point out he’d asked exactly that and paused to consider the situation.

“I can’t be a father. Not after…” He couldn’t say her name.

Charles nodded, and the understanding plain in his eyes made Magneto angry.

“That is not what he asked of you, though.”

“He didn’t ask anything, Charles,” he snapped.

“ _Exactly_.” Erik seriously considered overturning the other’s chair just to wipe that indulgent look off his face. “I would much rather you wouldn’t. And yes, I was in your mind right now; I don’t appreciate you looking at me like that.”

Erik scoffed, but didn’t act on his intentions.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he pointed out. “I’m not gonna stay and play house with him and his sister. I’m… glad he told me, but I don’t understand what he expects of me. He says he doesn’t want a father, but he felt the need to tell me he’s my son.” He ran his fingers through his hair in a nervous gesture. “I’ll talk to him,” he added feeling pressured by his friend’s piercing gaze.

 

By that point, he was used to the whispers and stares that followed him every time he entered a room; he wished the kids would just drop it, since it was clear he wasn’t there to hurt anyone, but he supposed he couldn’t expect his past to just be cancelled by a couple of good deeds. The X-Men – that now included Raven’s son – sat together in a corner of the entertainment room, huddled around some electronic device that beeped and squealed at what seemed random times in Peter’s hands. They seemed to be having fun, cheering their friend and asking for turns with the game, but the carefree mood changed upon his entrance. Scott – _Cyclops_ – raised his head and straightened his back, defensive. Erik found himself thinking he would be a good leader.

Peter didn’t need to be told anything; he jumped up, leaving the game to his friend with the promise he would show them how to break some record, and trotted out of the room with Magneto.

“I don’t think they like you,” he stage-whispered when they were far enough. “Aside ‘ro, but you two fought together, and that forms a bond. And Kurt, but he likes everybody, so he doesn’t count. And Jean, but she’s a telepath, telepaths are always different. Uh…” he scratched his head. “I guess Scott is the only one who doesn’t like you, really.”

He let his mouth run free when he was nervous; Erik wondered how they could be related.

“Did you wanna talk?” They were walking slowly, but Peter’s arms swung back and forth in a much more rapid pace, as if he needed an out for his too much energy.

“I did,” Erik answered, but didn’t elaborate. They reached the school back entrance and went on toward the woods. By the time they reached the lake, Peter was positively bouncing on his feet. “Peter…” he began, but the kid interrupted.

“Pietro.” The Master of Magnetism raised an eyebrow, and the kid explained, “My name. It’s not Peter: it’s Pietro.”

“Then what…”

“Mom wanted us to use American names when we moved here, to make integration easier.” He shrugged, and even in that simple movement there was much more pent-up energy than normal for a person. “A Romani girl, alone in a foreign country, with two kids and no husband. Things were hard enough.”

Erik took a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t know,” the kid easily absolved him. “And Dad was really nice, when he met Mom. He never questioned her past or our presence, and even acknowledged us as his.”

Somehow the thought of another man calling them _his_ children both relieved and bothered Erik.

“How did he take you talking to me?”

Peter – _Pietro_ – lowered his head, and his nervous movements stilled for a second.

“He’s dead. He died before we even found out we were mutants, though both he and Mom suspected we would be, since you clearly weren’t human. No offence,” he added, uncertain. As if Magneto could ever feel offended because he wasn’t _human_.

“Your sister…” He didn’t seem able to form a complete sentence – or question.

“Wanda. But she goes as Wendy. She’s in college, now.”

“Does she know about me?” He’d never felt more out of his depth.

“She doesn’t know I found you. She…” Pietro inflated his cheeks and blew air from his mouth while he searched for a word. “She wasn’t really on board with my plan, you know? Mom hasn’t really painted a flattering picture of our biological father, and – well, it’s not like you’ve helped much with… you know.” He grimaced, clearly embarrassed.

Magneto nodded. He couldn’t erase his past – especially since it wasn’t so past; he thought back to what he’d done to the officers and what he’d been about to do to his coworkers. _They deserved it_.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said after a sigh, bringing the conversation back on track. “I won’t ask you to follow, because I don’t want you to.” He didn’t look at the kid, because he didn’t want to see the hurt on his face – or the lack of it. “I won’t promise to be back. But if I ever will, I… hope to find you here. And then, maybe, we could talk some more,” he concluded finally meeting his son’s eyes.

Pietro exhaled a breath and his whole body calmed down with it. And smiled.

 

Mystique’s speech was simultaneously broadcasted on all major networks. She came on stage in her blue form – though she’d sensitively chosen to create clothes to conceal her nudity – standing tall and fierce, yellow eyes shining in the spotlights. She shook hands with the president of the United States, and it was followed by applause. Erik found himself thinking back to ten years before, to the mysterious man with the claws and his terrible future where none of this had ever happened; he didn’t know if the kids gathered in front of the massive screen of the conference room understood what a huge moment in history they were witnessing, how close they’d all gone to not having it – and how insignificant it could still be in the great scheme of things.

A light touch against his mind made him jump; it wasn’t Charles, he wouldn’t have even felt his friend entering, but it was clearly a telepath trying to communicate with him. He raised his head, and noticed Jean Grey looking at him from the other side of the room. He nodded to give her the permission she was asking for, and her voice filled his thoughts. She was so different from Charles, and even from Emma; she felt smaller, rougher, more uncertain.

 _“We shape our future,”_ her voice whispered in answer to his thoughts. _“With our actions we can make sure this day isn’t forgotten. It’s up to us to build a bright world for everybody to live in.”_

 _“What if humans don’t want it?”_ Erik found himself replying. _“What if they’re the ones wanting to fight, wanting to destroy?”_

Her conscious trembled, and he was reminded of the force that had ultimately been Nur’s demise. _“Then we will fight as well, and contrast destruction with construction. We can be the better men.”_

_We have it in us to be the better men._

Jean smiled both mentally and physically, feeling his memory of her Professor, and left his mind, returning her attention to the mutant hero.

 

(X)

 

A hero. The President himself had called her that, after he’d thanked her for saving his predecessor’s life ten years back and “the lives of countless” in the battle of Cairo. He hadn’t looked disgusted by her blue skin – but then again, the whole encounter had been meticulously organized despite the short notice, so he knew what he was gonna face; just like she’d known the whole room would erupt in a staged applause. Still, when it had happened it had still shocked her: she wasn’t a telepath, but she was an attentive observer and a good interpreter of people’s body language – it was a necessary skill to have when you needed to take somebody’s place for a mission, ‘cause appearances alone wouldn’t suffice – and many faces in the audience reflected true enthusiasm in their cheering, and true faith in her.

She felt crushed under their expectations, and yet she felt for the first time that peace really was possible. Her brother really was rubbing off on her.

Back at the mansion, she changed out of clothes – she didn’t need them anyway, and both the students and her friends had by now gotten used to her nakedness – before descending the stairs to go to her brother’s office, but stopped short at the closed door and the voices coming from within. She heard a chuckle behind her and turned around, coming face to face with Hank.

“Moira came to see him, probably to discuss the conference,” he explained, a grin full of innuendos on his beasty face. “You were great, by the way. I mean,” he was surprised by his own audacity, and awkwardly concluded, “you did a good job.”

Raven snorted in amusement. Both their gazes were trained on the door of the office, as if they couldn’t hold a conversation looking at each other.

“I’m glad you accepted,” he said.

“It was a good plan. Now we only have to wait and see if it worked.”

“Oh, it did. I’m sure it did. You were pretty convincing, _hero_ ,” he teased her, and she good-naturedly punched him in the shoulder.

“I’ll make a hero out of you too – and the kids, if we manage.”

To her surprise, he didn’t laugh; rather, he turned pensive.

“This is what Cuba should have been like. This is what mutants should have been seen as, right from the start: humans, like the others.” She stiffened, feeling the blame that wasn’t in his voice, but was ever-present in her own mind. He must have noticed, because he added, “It wasn’t your fault – or even Erik’s. Or rather, not _only_ : we all played a part in what happened. There’s no way of knowing what would have occurred if even just a single thing had gone differently, and thinking about it is pointless. We can’t alter the past. And, for better or for worse, that day changed us all, changed the whole world. Without it, maybe we wouldn’t have had a human president shaking hands with a mutant in front of all America, today.” He smiled ruefully. “Still, when we went on that first mission I hoped for a different outcome.” He paused for a moment, and they heard laughter behind the closed door. “After the beach, things have been… difficult for a while,” he continued, and Raven felt the shift in topic and had the distinct impression that those words hid so much more. She shivered. “Washington helped fixing some of them, but truth is…” he breathed heavily before resuming, “Some part of me is glad for Nur and for the battle we all fought together. Does this make me a bad person?”

His earnest eyes were full of self-recrimination, searching for an absolution he didn’t think he deserved.

“No, it doesn’t,” she firmly stated. She turned towards him, holding his gaze unflinchingly. “You’re the best person I know, Hank. And I… I want to thank you. For everything you did then and are still doing now.” _For having been there for Charles when I haven’t. For still being my friend too. For always being on the right side._

He then looked away, visibly uncomfortable, and coughed once. He was saved from answering by the door opening; Moira exited the room with a pleased smile that turned self-conscious when she noticed them there. She greeted them, all fake casualness, and went to the front door in determined strides. Raven shook her head, amused, and left Hank there to join her brother in the office.

“She have another conference planned?” she asked without preambles shutting the door behind her.

“She was just here to inform me that it went very well,” Charles explained avoiding her gaze.

“I see,” she commented coming to sit in front of him. She crossed her legs and leaned against the backrest, looking straight at him. “Her telephone broken or something?”

Her brother visibly blushed, and she couldn’t help but laugh at his embarrassment.

“Did you come here just to laugh at me?” he asked, his eyes unable to meet hers. She let her laugh slowly tone down, shaking her head in amusement, sincerely happy for him.

“I wanted to talk to you about the X-Men.”

He seemed happy with the topic change, and his attention was instantly back on her.

“I think they’re ready for a more targeted training, one that focuses on them as a team rather than on their individual skills,” she began. “They will also need a leader in the field, and I would suggest Cyclops: the others trust his judgment, and he has the charisma to make them follow without questions. He was the one who decided to come to our rescue when Stryker got us,” she grimaced at the memory.

Charles nodded, but he suddenly looked subdued, the previous lightheartedness vanished. Raven frowned, puzzled, and leaned forward.

“You still having second thought about the team?” she asked. “I know the president shook my hand and all, but while I agree that a better future is possible I don’t think we can just stop fighting and hope for the best,” she reasoned, but he shook his head.

“I know. I agree. The X-Men are necessary.” He sighed and his blue eyes looked at her sadly. And then, as if unsure whether to say it or not, he added, “I just hoped you would stay a little longer.”

She started. Did he really think she was telling him about the team just to abandon them – to abandon him?

“I’m not leaving, Charles,” she asserted.

“You’re… not?” He looked honestly confused.

For the first time, Raven found herself wishing he would read her mind: why did he think she’d stayed after their return from the battle? She’d never explained because she thought it was clear, but it seemed he’d just been waiting for her to leave one day: he’d never asked because he didn’t want to hear her answer.

“No, Charles. I’m not,” she confirmed. “I’m staying.”

And he smiled like he had in his kitchen forty years before, when he’d found he wasn’t alone.

 

(X)

 

The white king was defeated; Erik was pretty sure his opponent had let him win as some kind of goodbye present. He lifted the tumbler to his lips, savouring the amber liquid for the last time, looking above the glass rim at the content expression on his friend’s face.

“You’ve just lost,” he pointed out setting down the drink.

Charles chuckled.

“So it seems. Not my first defeat, though, and certainly not my last, so you’ll excuse me if I don’t tear my hair out in desperation.”

“Especially since it’s just growing back,” Erik replied. “Are you going to let it get back to that ridiculous length?” His friend snorted, too amused to take offence. “Usually our games last longer than twenty minutes, anyway.”

“I apologize. I’m afraid my mind was elsewhere.”

“The training?” The Professor was gonna supervise the first official team training of the X-Men that evening, and he’d spent the whole morning planning it with Mystique and Beast.

“That too,” was the elusive answer. “Have you talked to Peter?”

“Pietro,” Erik corrected, and his friend’s involuntary pleased smile confirmed his suspect that he already knew the kid’s history. They would have to address the Professor’s idea of secrecy, one day.

“He wanted to be the one to tell you,” was the answer to his thoughts. _So you are reading my mind now, uh?_ “As for me, I only know ‘cause he formally applied to the school, and there’s his real name on the documents.”

“I thought he was well past high school,” Erik raised an eyebrow. He didn’t just _think_ , he _knew_ Pietro was too old for it.

Charles nodded, and he looked delighted with the observation.

“I would like to try and give our students a chance for higher education as well here at the institute. It’s still nothing more than an idea, but Pietro insisted to be my first university student. Though I’m not sure he is actually gonna _attend_ classes.”

Despite himself, Erik laughed, making to set the chessboard again.

“One last game?” he offered.

“By all means.” They played in a pleasant quiet for a while before the Professor asked, “I take it your conversation with _Pietro_ went well.”

“It was… interesting.” And weird. But if his friend wanted to hear him say that he would have to keep reading his mind.

“But not enough to make you stay.”

 _I’m not ready to be a father again._ What he said, though, was, “You knew I would leave, eventually.”

“Oh, I did. We all did. That doesn’t mean you can’t change your mind.”

Erik chuckled at his friend’s never-ending hope; and lost the game on purpose.

 

They were standing in front of the so-called Danger Room – _really Charles? Who did you let decide such a cheesy name?_ – where the X-Men were getting ready for their first training as a team. They all looked so much older and secure than they were; powerful. Beast – he was still in his furry form, even though his lab was repaired and back in working order, and Erik dared believe his former student was finally truly accepting himself and his appearance – was setting the room for the new session, and Mystique was giving the kids the speech of a drill sergeant.

Despite everything, he felt proud of them all, and he knew Charles would be too; his endless faith and optimism notwithstanding, his friend wasn’t stupid, and he knew that a conference wouldn’t suffice to change the hearts of those that still feared and hated what was different. The X-Men were necessary, at least until the world truly changed. And Erik wasn’t sure yet that it really could.

“The world has already begun rebuilding its arsenals,” his friend said, as if reading his mind – which he probably was. _Mutant and proud, right?_

“It’s human nature, Charles.”

“I still have hope,” the other replied.

Erik snorted.

“Oh, yes. _Hope_.”

“I was right about Raven. I was even right about you.” There was a satisfied smirk on the Professor’s face.

“What about the rest of the world?” Erik replied. “Doesn’t it ever wake you up in the middle of the night – the feeling that one day they’ll come for you… and your children?” he added nodding towards the Danger Room.

His friend didn’t miss a beat. “It does, indeed.”

Erik was confused. “What do you do when you wake up to that?”

“I feel a great swell of pity for the poor soul that comes to my school looking for trouble.”

The reply was so different from what he was expecting that Magneto was stunned into silence. The blue eyes looking up at him sparkled of the danger people forgot the kind teacher was capable of, so deftly masked it was by his harmless appearance and polite manners.

A corner of Erik’s mouth lifted; not quite a smile, but it said more than words could.

“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?” Charles asked feeling the shift and now able to relax again.

“You’re psychic, Charles. You can convince me to do anything,” he teased patting his friend’s shoulder, sure for the first time that the telepath wouldn’t do it – just like he hadn’t up to that moment. Just like he never would. He walked away then, finally ready to leave the school behind.

“Goodbye, old friend,” the other replied, a smile in his voice.

“Good luck, Professor.”

The elevator’s door closed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about writing Raven's revelation to Kurt, but then thought the story worked better this way. And hey, it gives my material for a potential sequel, right? I'm not promising anything, though: this story was written in August, and look how much later I've been posting it XD  
> Anyway, this fic was created with two purposes: explore Raven and Charles’ sibling relationship, because I loved it no matter how pulled out of the thin air it was, and have the battle aftermath the movie robbed me of.  
> I didn’t really have a plot at first, but as I went on I realized the story was basically writing itself, and new details (like Erik’s pov) added themselves as if they were always meant to be there. I’m rather proud of the final result; especially since it’s also the first fic I write in English right from the start, with no translation from Italian involved.  
> I really really hope you liked it! :) *hugs everybody*
> 
> I have another short fic ready for posting, about three thousand words in three chapters, the first one of which should be up in a couple of weeks – just enough time to let real life settle a little and re-read the story and fix any mistakes. I hope to see you soon!


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